.F. 


THE 


AMBROSE    BIERCE. 


BLACK  BEETLES  IN  AMBER 


BY 


AMBROSE   BIERCE 


WESTERN  AUTHORS  PUBLISHING  COMPANY 


SAN  FRANCISCO 

Murphy  Building 


NEW  YORK: 
^0-235  Temple  Court 


1892 


Copyright  1892 
BY  AMBROSE   BIERCK 


Printed  by 

THE  WESTERN  AUTHORS  PUBLISHING  COMPANY 
San  Francisco  and  Xe\v  York 


y\  AJ  KJ 

THK  ORDER  IX  WHICH  THE  BEETLES 
ARE  SHOWN 


PAGE 

Ix  EXPLANATION 7 

THE  KEY  NOTE 9 

CAIN ii 

AN  OBITUARIAN 12 

A  COMMUTED  SENTENCE 13 

A  LIFTED  FINGER 16 

Two  STATESMAN 18 

MATTER  FOR  GRATITUDE 20 

THREE  KINDS  OF  A  ROGUE 22 

A  MAN 26 

YK  FOE  TO  CATH AYI-; 28 

SAMUEL  SHORTRIDGE 28 

SURPRISED 29 

POSTERITY'S  AWARD 30 

AN  ART  CRITIC 32 

THE  SPIRIT  OF  A  SPONGE 33 

ORNITUANTHROPOS 33 

To  E.  S.  SALOMON 34 

PENNIS^KEARNEY  36 

FINIS   ^iVi'ERNlTATlS 37 

THE  VETERAN 39 

AN  (>  EXHIBIT  " 40 

THE  TRANSMIGRATIONS  OF  A  SOUL  42 

AN  ACTOR 45 

FAMINE'S  REALM 46 

THE  MACKATAD 48 

A  SONG  IN  Fr.AisE 51 

A  POET'S  FATHER 52 

A  COWARD 53 

To  M\r  LIARS 54 

PHIL  CRIMMINS 56 

CODEX  HONORIS 57 

To  W.  H.  L.  B 57 

EMANCIPATION 58 

JOIINDONKEY 59 

HELL 60 

BY  FALSE  PRETENSES 61 

LUCIFER  OF  THE  TORCH.  .  .  62 


G-~     .'^    ^Y,      ^ 
i-KK'Jo 


4  The  Order  In    Which   The  Beetles  Are  Shown 

THE  "WHIRLIGIG  OF  TIME  " 63 

A  RAILROAD  LACKEY 64 

THE  LEGATEE 66 

"DIED  OE  A  ROSE" 67 

A  LITERARY  HANGMAN .   67 

AT  THE  ELEVENTH  HOUR 68 

A  CONTROVERSIALIST 69 

MENDAX 7° 

THE  RETROSPECTIVE  BIRD 71 

THE  OAKLAND  DOG 72 

THE  UNFALLEN  BRAVE 

A  CELEBRATED  CASE 

COUPLETS  . .  

A  RETORT 79 

A  VISION  OF  RESURRECTION 80 

MASTER  OF  THREE  ARTS 82 

THERSITES 83 

A  SOCIETY  LEADER 84 

EXPOSITOR  VERITATIS 86 

To  "COLONEL "  DAN  BURNS 87 

GEORGE  A.  KNIGHT 88 

UNARMED 90 

A  POLITICAL  VIOLET 92 

THE  SUBDUED  EDITOR 94 

' '  BLACK  BART,  Po8  " .'  96 

A  "  SCION  OF  NOBILITY  " ., 98 

THE  NIGHT  OF  ELECTION 99 

THE  CONVICTS'  BALL 100 

A  PRAYER 101 

To  ONE  DETESTED 102 

THE  Boss's  CHOICE .103 

A  MERCIFUL  GOVERNOR  104 

AN  INTERPRETATION 105 

A  SOARING  TOAD 106 

AN  UNDRESS  UNIFORM 107 

THE  PERVERTED  VILLAGE 108 

MR.  SHEETS 109 

A  JACK-AT-ALL-VIEWS no 

MY  LORD  POET  i  u 

To  THE  FOOL  KILLER 112 

ONE  AND  ONE  ARE  TWO   114 

MONTAGUE  LEYERSON  115 

THE  \VOFUL  TALE  OF  MR.  PETERS 116 

TWIN  UNWORTHIES 120 

ANOTHER  PLAN  121 

A  POLITICAL  APOSTATE 122 

TINKER  DICK 124 

BATS  IN  SUNSHINE 125 


The  Order  In    Which    The  Beetles  ^-ire  Shown  5 

A  WORD  TO  THE  UNWISE 126 

O::  THE  PLATFORM   1 28 

A  DAMPENED  ARDOR 129 

ADAIR  WELCKER,  POET 129 

To  A  WORD-WARRIOR    , 130 

A  CULINARY  CANDIDATE 132 

THE  OLEOMARGARINE  MAX 133 

GENESIS   - 135 

LLEWELLEN  PO\VKLL 136 

THE  SUNSET-  GUN        ...  138 

THE  ' '  YIDUATE  DAME  " 139 

FOUR  OF  A  KIND 140 

RECONCILIATION 141 

A  VISION  OF  CLIMATE 142 

A  "  MASS  "  MEETING; i  !-4 

FOR  PRESIDENT,  LKLAXD  STANFORD 145 

FOR  MAYOR 146 

A  CHEATING  PREACHER M7 

A  CROCODILE 14$ 

THE  AMERICAN  PARTY M9 

UNCOLONELED T5° 

THE  GATES  AJAR 15 L 

TIDINGS  OF  GOOD 153 

ARBORICULTURE T55 

A  Si  LURIAN  HOLIDAY 1 56 

REJECTED 1 5 7 

JUDKX  JUDICATUS *5$ 

ON  THE  WEDDING  OF  AN  AERONAUT 1 59 

A  HASTY  INFERENCE l6c> 

A  VOLUPTUARY , 161 

AD  CATTONUM   .    , 162 

THE  NATIONAL  GUARDSMAN 1 63 

THE  BARKING  WEASEL r  64 

A  REAR  ELEVATION i  ^5 

IN  UPPER  SAN  FRANCISCO       i^>6 

NlMROD !^ 

CENSOR  LITERARUM 169 

BORRO\VED  BRAINS 1 7° 

THE  FYGHTYNGE  SEVENTH i~T 

INDICTED 1 72 

OVER  THE  BORDER J  73 

ONE  JUDGE  J  74 

To  AN  INSOLENT  ATTORNEY 175 

ACCEPTED T77 

A  PROMISED  FAST  TRAIN 17^ 

ONE  OF  THE  SAINTS 179 

A  MILITARY  INCIDENT iSo 

SUBSTANCE  VERSUS  SHADOW 181 


6  The  Order  In    Which   The  Beetles  Are  Shown 

THE  COMMITTEE  ox  PUBLIC  MORALS 182 

CALIFORNIA , iS3 

DE  YOUNG — A  PROPHECY 184 

To  EITHER 185 

DISAPPOINTMENT 187 

THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  SHADOW  OF  THEFT 188 

DOWN  AMONG  THE  DEAD  MEN 189 

THE  LAST  MAN 191 

ARBOR  DAY 192 

THE  PIUTE 193 

FAME i  ;4 

ONE  OF  THE  REDEEMED 195 

A  CRITIC 197 

A  QUESTION  OF  ELIGIBILITY 198 

FLEET  STROTHKR 200 

CALIFORNIAN  SUMMER  PICTURES 201 

SLANDER , 203 

JAMES  L.  FLOOD 203 

FOUR  CANDIDATES  FOR  SENATOR 204 

A  GROWLER 205 

AD  MOODIUM 206 

AN  EPITAPH 207 

A  SPADE 208 

THE  VAN  NESSIAD 209 

A  FISH  COMMISSIONER 211 

To  A  STRAY  DOG , 212 

IN  Kis  HAND 213 

A  DEMAGOGUE 214 

IGNIS  FATUUS , 215 

FROM  TOP  TO  BOTTOM 216 

AN  IDLER 217 

THE  DEAD  KING 218 

A  PATTER  SONG 219 

A  CALLER ... 220 

THE  SHAFTER  SHAFTED 221 

THE  MUMMERY 

THE  Two  CAVEES 225 

METEMPSYCHOSIS 23 1 

SLTCKENS 238 

"  PEACEABLE  EXPULSION" 245 

ASPIRANTS  THREE 249 

THE  BIRTH  OF  THE  RAIL 258 

A  BAD  NIGHT 263 

ON  STONE 
A  WREATH  OF  IMMORTELLES 273 


IN   EXPLANATION 

Many  of  the  verses  in  this  book  are  republished,  with  con 
siderable  alterations,  from  various  newspapers.  The  collection 
includes  few  not  relating  to  persons  and  events  more  or  less 
familiar  to  the  people  of  the  Pacific  Coast — to  whom  the 
volume  may  be  considered  as  especially  addressed,  though 
not  without  a  hope  that  some  part  of  the  contents  may 
be  found  to  have  sufficient  intrinsic  interest  to  commend  it  to 
others.  In  that  case,  doubtless,  commentators  will  be  "  raised 
up  "  to  make  exposition  of  its  full  meaning,  with  possibly  an 
added  meaning  read  into  it  by  themselves. 

Of  my  motives  in  writing,  and  in  now  republishing,  I  do  not 
care  to  make  either  defense  or  explanation,  except  with  refer 
ence  to  those  persons  who  since  my  first  censure  of  them  have 
passed  away.  To  one  having  only  a  reader's  interest  in  the 
matter  it  may  easily  seem  that  the  verses  relating  to  those 
might  more  properly  have  been  omitted  from  this  collection. 
Uut  if  these  pieces,  or,  indeed,  if  any  considerable  part  of  my 
work  in  literature,  have  the  intrinsic  worth  which  by  this 
attempt  to  preserve  some  of  it  I  have  assumed,  their  perma 
nent  suppression  is  impossible,  and  it  is  only  a  question  of 
when  and  by  whom  they  shall  be  republished.  Some  one 
will  surely  search  them  out  and  put  them  in  circulation. 

I  conceive  it  the  right  of  an  author  to  have  his  fugitive  work 
collected  in  his  lifetime  ;  and  this  seems  to  me  especially  true 
of  one  whose  work,  necessarily  engendering  animosities,  is 
peculiarly  exposed  to  challenge  as  unjust.  That  is  a  charge 


8  IN  EX  PL  ANA  TfON 

that  can  be  best  examined  before  time  has  effaced  the  evidence. 
For  the  death  of  a  man  of  whom  I  may  have  \vritten  what  I 
venture  to  think  worthy  to  live  I  am  no  way  responsible  ;  and, 
however  sincerely  I  may  regret  it,  I  can  hardly  be  expected  to 
consent  that  it  shall  affect  my  fortunes.  If  the  satirist  who  does 
not  accept  the  remarkable  doctrine  that  while  condemning 
the  sin  he  should  spare  the  sinner  were  bound  to  let  the  life  of 
his  work  be  coterminous  with  that  of  his  subject  his  were  a  lot 
of  peculiar  hardship. 

Persuaded  of  the  validity  of  all  this,  I  have  not  hesitated  to 
reprint  even  certain  "epitaphs"  which,  once  of  the  living,  are 
now  of  the  dead,  as  all  the  others  must  eventually  be.  The  ob 
jection  inheres  in  all  forms  of  applied  satire — my  understanding 
of  whose  laws  and  liberties  is  at  least  derived  from  reverent 
study  of  the  masters.  That  in  respect  of  matters  herein 
mentioned  I  nave  but  followed  their  practice  can  be  shown  by 
abundant  instance  and  example. 

AMBROSE  BIERCE. 


THE   KEY   . 


I  DREAMED  I  was  dreaming  one  morn  as  I  lay 
In  a  garden  with  flowers  teeming. 
On  an  island  I  lay  in  a  mystical  bay, 

In  the  dream  that  I  dreamed  I  was  dreaming. 

The  ghost  of  a  scent  —  had  it  followed  me  there 
From  the  place  where  I  truly  was  resting  ? 

It  filled  like  an  anthem  the  aisles  of  the  air, 
The  presence  of  roses  attesting. 

Yet  I  thought  in  the  dream  that  I  dreamed  I  dreamed 
That  the  place  was  all  barren  of  roses  — 

That  it  only  seemed  ;  and  the  place,  I  deemed, 
Was  the  Isle  of  Bewildered  Noses. 

Full  many  a  seaman  had  testified 

How  all  who  sailed  near  wrere  enchanted, 

And  landed  to  search  (and  in  searching  died) 
For  the  roses  the  Sirens  had  planted. 

For  the  Sirens  were  dead,  and  the  billows  boomed 

In  the  stead  of  their  singing  forever  ; 
But  the  roses  bloomed  on  the  graves  of  the  doomed, 

Though  man  had  discovered  them  never. 


io  ^BLACK  BEETLES  IX  AMBER 

I  thought  in  my  dream'  'twas'  an  idle  tale, 
A  de&s&djittH&t  m&rmets^herished— 

Tliat  the  fragrance  loading  the  conscious  gale 
Was  the  ghost  of  a  rose  long  perished. 

I  :aid,    "  I  will  fly  from  this  island  of  woes. " 

And  acting  on  that  decision, 
By  that  odor  of  rose  I  was  led  by  the  nose, 

For  'twas  truly,  ah  !  truly,  El3Tsian. 

I  ran,  in  my  madness,  to  seek  out  the  source 

Of  the  redolent  river — directed 
By  some  supernatural,  sinister  force 

To  a  forest,  dark,  haunted,  infected. 

And  still  as  I  threaded  ('twas  all  in  the  dream 
That  I  dreamed  I  was  dreaming)  each  turning 

There  were  many  a  scream  and  a  sudden  gleam 
Of  eyes  all  uncannily  burning ! 

The  leaves  were  all  wet  with  a  horrible  dew 
That  mirrored  the  red  moon's  crescent, 

And  all  shapes  were  fringed  with  a  ghostly  blue, 
Dim,  \vavering,  phosphorescent. 

But  the  fragrance  divine,  coming  strong  and  free, 
Led  me  on,  though  my  blood  was  clotting, 

Till — ah,  joy  ! — I  could  see,  on  the  limbs  of  a  tree, 
Mine  enemies  hanging  and  rotting  ! 


BLACK  BEETLES  IN  AMBER  n 


CAIN 

LORD,  shed  thy  light  upon  his  desert  path, 
And  gild  his  branded  brow,  that  no  man  spill 
His  forfeit  life  to  balk  thy  holy  will 
That  spares  him  for  the  ripening  of  wrath. 

Already,  lo!  the  red  sign  is  descried, 

To  trembling  jurors  visibly  revealed  : 

The  prison  doors  obediently  yield, 
The  baffled  hangman  flings  the  cord  aside. 

Powell,  the  brother's  blood  that  marks  your  trail — 
Hark,  how  it  cries  against  you  from  the  ground, 
Like  the  far  baying  of  the  tireless  hound. 

Faith  !  to  your  ear  it  is  no  nightingale. 

What  signifies  the  date  upon  a  stone  ? 

To-morrow  you  shall  die  if  not  to-day. 

What  matter  when  the  Avenger  choose  to  slay 
Or  soon  or  late  the  Devil  gets  his  own. 

Thenceforth  through  all  eternity  you'll  hold 

No  one  advantage  of  the  later  death. 

Though  you  had  granted  Ralph  another  breath 
Would  he  to-day  less  silent  lie  and  cold  ? 

Karth  cares  not,  curst  assassin,  when  you  die  ; 

You  never  will  be  readier  than  now. 

Wear,  in  God's  name,  that  mark  upon  your  brow, 
And  keep  the  life  you  purchased  with  a  lie  ! 


1 2  BL  A  CK  BEE  TL ES  IN  AMBER 


AN  OBITUARIAN 

DEATH-POET  Pickering  sat  at  his  desk, 
Wrapped  in  appropriate  gloom  ; 
His  posture  was  pensive  and  picturesque, 
Like  a  raven  charming  a  tomb. 

Enter  a  party  a-drinking  the  cup 

Of  sorrow — and  likewise  of  woe  : 
"Some  harrowing  poetry,  Mister,  wrhack  up, 

All  wrote  in  the  key  of  O. 

"  For  the  angels  has  called  my  old  woman  hence 
From  the  strife  (where  she  fit  mighty  free). 

It's  a  nickel  a  line?    Cond — n  the  expense  1 
For  wealth  is  now  little  to  me." 

The  Bard  of  Mortality  looked  him  through 
In  the  piercingest  sort  of  a  way  : 

"  It  is  much  to  me  though  it's  little  to  you— 
I've  taken  a  wife  to-day." 

So  he  twisted  the  tail  of  his  mental  cow 
And  made  her  give  down  her  flow. 

The  grief  of  that  bard  was  long-winded,  somehow 
There  was  reams  and  reamses  of  woe. 


BLACK  BEETLES  IX  AMBER  13 

The  widower  man  which  had  buried  his  wife 

Grew  lily-like  round  each  gill, 
For  she  turned  in  her  grave  and  came  back  to  life — 

Then  he  cruel  ignored  the  bill  1 

Then  Sorrow  she  opened  her  gates  a-wide, 

As  likewise  did  also  Woe, 
And  the  death-poet's  song,  as  is  heard  inside, 

Is  sang  in  the  key  of  O. 


A  COMMUTED  SENTENCE 

BORUCK  and  Waterman  upon  their  grills 
In  Hades  lay,  with  many  a  sigh  and  groan, 

Hotly  disputing,  for  each  swore  his  own 
Were  clearly  keener  than  the  other's  ills. 

And,  truly,  each  had  much  to  boast  of — bone 
And  sineu*,  muscle,  tallow,  nerve  and  skin, 
Blood  in  the  vein  and  marrow  in  the  shin, 

Teeth,  eyes  and  other  organs  (for  the  soul 
Has  all  of  these  and  even  a  wagging  chin) 

Blazing  and  coruscating  like  a  coal  ! 
For  Lower  Sacramento,  you  remember, 
Has  trying  weather,  even  in  mid-December. 

Now  this  occurred  in  the  far  future.  All 
Mankind  had  been  a  million  ages  dead, 
And  each  to  her  reward  above  had  sped, 

Each  to  his  punishment  below, — I  call 


14  BLACK  BEETLES  IN  AMBER 

That  quite  a  just  arrangement.     As  I  said, 
Boruck  and  Waterman  in  warmest  pain 
Crackled  and  sizzed  with  all  their  might  and  main. 

For,  when  on  earth,  they'd  freed  a  scurvy  host 
Of  crooks  from  the  State  prison,  who  again 

Had  robbed  and  ravaged  the  Pacific  Coast 
And  (such  the  felon's  predatory  nature) 
.Even  got  themselves  into  the  Legislature. 

So  Waterman  and  Boruck  lay  and  roared 
In  Hades.     It  is  true  all  other  males 
Felt  the  like  flames  and  uttered  equal  wails, 

But  did  not  suffer  them  ;  whereas  they  bored 
Each  one  the  other.     But  indeed  my  tale's 

Not  getting  on  at  all.     They  lay  and  browned 

Till  Boruck  (who  long  since  his  teeth  had  ground 
Away  and  spoke  Gum  Arabic  and  made 

Stump  speeches  even  in  praying)  looked  around 
And  said  to  Bob's  incinerated  shade  : 

"  Your  Excellency,  this  is  mighty  hard  on 

The  inventors  of  the  unpardonable  pardon." 

The  other  soul — his  right  hand  all  aflame, 

For  'twas  with  that  he'd  chiefly  sinned,  although 
His  tongue,  too,  like  a  wick  was  working  woe 

To  the  reserve  of  tallow  in  his  frame — 
Said,  with  a  sputtering,  uncertain  flow, 

And  with  a  gesture  like  a  shaken  torch: 

"  Yes,  but  I'm  sure  we'll  not  much  longer  scorch. 
Although  this  climate  is  not  good  for  Hope, 

Whose  joyous  wing   'twould   singe,    I    think    the 
porch 


BLACK  BEETLES  IX  AMBER  1.5 

Of  Hell  we'll  quit  with  a  pacific  slope. 
Last  century  I  signified  repentance 
And  asked  for  commutation  of  our  sentence." 

Even  as  he  spoke,  the  form  of  Satan  loomed 

In  sight,  all  crimson  with  reflections's  fire, 

Like  some  tall  tower  or  cathedral  spire 
Touched  by  the  dawn  while  all  the  earth  is  gloomed 

In  mists  and  shadows  of  the  night  time.    "  Sire," 
Said  Waterman,  his  agitable  wick 
Still  sputtering,   "  what  calls  you  back  so  quick? 

It  scarcely  was  a  century  ago 
You  left  us."      "  I  have  come  to  bring,"  said  Xick, 

tl  St.  Peter's  answer  ('he  is  never  slow 
In  correspondence)  to  your  application 
For  pardon — pardon  me! — for  commutation. 

•'  He  says  that  he's  instructed  to  reply 
(And  he  has  so  instructed  me)  that  sin 
Like  yours — and  this  poor  gentleman's  who's  in 

For  bad  advice  to  you — comes  rather  high ; 
But  since,  apparently,  you  both  begin 

To  feel  some  pious  promptings  to  the  right, 

And  fain  would  turn  your  faces  to  the  light. 
Eternity  seems  all  too  long  a  term. 

So  'tis  commuted  to  one-half.      I'm  quite 

Prepared,  when  that  expires,  to  free  the  worm 

And  quench  the  fire."     And,  civilly  retreating, 

He  left  them  holding  their  protracted  meeting. 


16  BLACK  BEETLES  IN  AMBER 


A   LIFTED    FINGER 

[The  Chronicle  did  a  great  public  service  in  whipping — 
and  his  fellow-rascals  out  of  office. — M.  II.  de   Young's  News 
paper.] 

WHAT  !    you    whip    rascals  ?— -you,    whose    gutter 
blood 

Bears,  in  its  dark,  dishonorable  flood, 
Enough  of  prison-birds'  prolific  germs 
To  serve  a  whole  eternity  of  terms  ? 
You,  for  whose  back  the  rods  and  cudgels  strove 
Ere  yet  the  ax  had  hewn  them  from  the  grove  ? 
You,  the  De  Young  whose  splendor  bright  and  brave 
Is  phosphorescence  from  another's  grave — 
Till  now  unknown,  by  an}'  chance  or  luck, 
Even  to  the  hearts  at  which  you  feebly  struck  ? 
You  whip  a  rascal  out  of  office  ? — you 
Whose  leadless  weapon  once  ignobly  blew 
Its  smoke  in  six  directions  to  assert 
Your  lack  of  appetite  for  others'  dirt  ? 

Practice  makes  perfect:    when  for  fame  you  thirst, 
Then  whip  a  rascal.      Whip  a  cripple  first. 
Or,  if  for  action  you're  less  free  than  bold — 
Your  palms  both  brimming  with  dishonest  gold — 
Entrust  the  castigation  that  you've  planned, 
As  once  before,  to  woman's  idle  hand. 
So  in  your  spirit  shall  two  pleasures  join 
To  slake  the  sacred  thirst  for  blood  and  coin. 


BLACK  BEETLES  IX  AMBER  17 

Blood  ?     Souls  have  blood,  even  as  the  body  hath, 
And,  spilled,  'twill  fertilize  the  field  of  wrath. 
I,o  !  in  a  purple  gorge  of  yonder  hills, 
Where  o'er  a  grave  a  bird  its  day-song  stills, 
A  woman's  blood,  through  roses  ever  red, 
Mutely  appeals  for  vengeance  on  your  head. 
Slandered  to  death  to  serve  a  sordid  end, 
She  called  you  murderer  and  called  me  friend. 

Now,  mark  you,  libeler,  this  course  if  you 

Dare  to  maintain,  or  rather  to  renew  ; 

If  one  short  year's  immunity  has  made 

You  blink  again  the  perils  of  your  trade — 

The  ghastly  sequence  of  the  maddened  "knave," 

The  hot  encounter  and  the  colder  grave ; 

If  the  grim,  dismal  lesson  you  ignore 

While  yet  the  stains  are  fresh  upon  your  floor. 

And  calmly  march  upon  the  fatal  brink 

With  eyes  averted  to  your  trail  of  ink, 

Counting  unkind  the  services  of  those 

Who  pull,  to  hold  you  back,  your  stupid  nose, 

The  day  for  you  to  die  is  not  so  far, 

Or,  at  the  least,  to  live  the  thing  you  are  ! 

Pregnant  with  possibilities  of  crime, 
And  full  of  felons  for  all  coming  time, 
Your  blood's  too  precious  to  be  lightly  spilt 
In  testimony  to  a  venial  guilt. 
Live  to  get  whelpage  and  preserve  a  name 
Xo  praise  can  sweeten  and  no  lie  unshame. 
Live  to  fulfill  the  vision  that  I  see 
Down  the  dim  vistas  of  the  time  to  be  : 


i8  BLACK  BEETLES  IX  AMBER 

A  dream  of  clattering  beaks  and  burning  eyes 
Of  hungry  ravens  glooming  all  the  skies  ; 
A  dream  of  gleaming  teeth  and  foetid  breath 
Of  jackals  wrangling  at  the  feast  of  death  ; 
A  dream  of  broken  necks  and  swollen  tongues — 
The  whole  world's  gibbets  loaded  with  De  Youngs  ! 
iSSi. 


TWO   STATESMEN 

IN  that  fair  city  by  the  inland  sea, 
Where  Elaine  unhived  his  Presidential  bee, 
Frank  Pixie)- 's  meeting  with  George  Gorham  sing, 
Celestial  muse,  and  what  events  did  spring 
From  the  encounter  of  those  mighty  sons 
Of  thunder,  and  of  slaughter,  and  of  guns. 
Great  Gorham  first,  his  yearning  tooth  to  sate 
And  give  him  stomach  for  the  day's  debate, 
Entering  a  restaurant,  with  eager  mien, 
Demands  an  ounce  of  bacon  and  a  bean. 
The  trembling  waiter,  by  the  statesman's  eye 
Smitten  with  terror,  hastens  to  comply  ; 
Nor  chairs  nor  tables  can  his  speed  retard, 
For  famine's  fixed  and  horrible  regard 
He  takes  for  menace.     As  he  shaking  flew, 
IyO  !   the  portentous  Pixley  heaved  in  view  ! 
Before  him  yawned  invisible  the  cell, 
Unheard,  behind,  the  warden's  footsteps  fell. 
Thrice  in  convention  rising  to  his  feet, 


BLACK  BEETLES  AV  A'MBER  19 

He  thrice  had  been  thrust  back  into  his  seat ; 
Thrice  had  protested,  been  reminded  thrice 
The  nation  had  no  need  of  his  advice, 
Balked  of  his  will  to  set  the  people  right, 
His  soul  was  gloomy  though  his  hat  was  white, 
So  fierce  his  mien,  with  provident  accord 
The  waiters  swarmed  him,  thinking  him  a  lord. 
He  spurned  them,  roaring  grandly  to  their  chief  i 
Give  me  (Fred.  Crocker  pays)  a  leg  of  beef  !  " 
His  wandering  eye's  deluminating  flame 
Fell  upon  Gorham  and  the  crisis  came  ! 
For  Pixley  scowled  and  darkness  filled  the  room 
Till  Gorham' s  flashing  orbs  dispelled  the  gloom. 
The  patrons  of  the  place,  by  fear  dismayed, 
Sprang  to  the  street  and  left  their  scores  unpaid. 
So,  when  Jove  thunders  and  his  lightnings  gleam 
To  sour  the  milk  and  curdle,  too,  the  cream, 
And  storm-clouds  gather  on  the  shadowed  hill, 
The  ass  forsakes  his  hay,  the  pig  his  swill. 
Hotly  the  heroes  now  engaged — their  breath 
Came  short  and  hard,  as  in  the  throes  of  death. 
They    clenched  their    hands,   their    weapons  bran 
dished  high, 

Cut,  stabbed,  and  hewed,  nor  uttered  any  cry, 
But  gnashed  their  teeth  and  struggled  on  !    In  brief, 
One  ate  his  bacon,  t'other  one  his  beef. 


20  BLACK  BEETLES  IN  AMDER 


MATTER   FOR   GRATITUDE 

[Especially  should  \ve  be  thankful  for  having  escaped  the 
ravages  of  the  yellow  scourge  by  which  our  neighbors  have 
been  so  sorely  afflicted. — Governor  Stoneman's  Thanksgiving' 
Proclamation.^ 

T3E  pleased,  O  Lord,  to  take  a  people's  thanks 

-•— '     That   Thine    avenging   sword    has   spared   our 

ranks — 

That  Thou  hast  parted  from  our  lips  the  cup 
And  forced  our  neighbors'  lips  to  drink  it  up. 
Father  of  Mercies,  with  a  heart  contrite 
We  thank  Thee  that  Thou  goest  south  to  smite, 
And  sparest  San  Francisco's  loins,  to  crack 
Thy  lash  on  Hermosillo's  bleeding  back — 
That  o'er  our  homes  Thine  awful  angel  spread 
His  wings  in  vain,  and  Guaymas  weeps  instead. 

We  praise  Thee,  God,  that  Yellow  Fever  here 
His  horrid  banner  has  not  dared  to  rear, 
Consumption's  jurisdiction  to  contest, 
Her  dagger  deep  in  every  second  breast ! 
Catarrh  and  Asthma  and  Congestive  Chill 
Attest  Thy  bounty  and  perform  Thy  will. 
These  native  messengers  obey  Thy  call— 


BLACK  BEETLES  IN  AMBER  21 

They  summon  singly,  but  they  summon  all. 
Not,  as  in  Mexico's  impested  clime, 
Can  Yellow  Jack  commit  recurring  crime. 
We  thank  Thee  that  Thou  killest  all  the  time. 

Thy  tender  mercies,  Father,  never  end  : 

Upon  all  heads  Thy  blessings  still  descend, 

Though  their  forms  vary.     Here  the  sown  seeds  yield 

Abundant  grain  that  whitens  all  the  field — - 

There  the  smit  corn  stands  barren  on  the  plain, 

Thrift  reaps  the  stra\v  and  Famine  gleans  in  vain. 

Here  the  fat  priest  to  the  contented  king 

Points  out  the  contrast  and  the  people  sing — 

There  mothers  eat  their  offspring.     Well,  at  least 

Thou  hast  provided  offspring  for  the  feast. 

An  earthquake  here  rolls  harmless  through  the  land, 

And  Thou  art  good  because  the  chimneys  stand — 

There  templed  cities  sink  into  the  sea, 

And  damp  survivors,  howling  as  they  flee, 

Skip  to  the  hills  and  hold  a  celebration 

In  honor  of  Thy  wise  discrimination. 

O  God,  forgive  them  all,  from  Stoneman  down, 
Thy  smile  who  construe  and  expound  Thy  frown, 
And  fall  with  saintly  grace  upon  their  knees 
To  render  thanks  when  Thou  dost  only  sneeze. 


22  BLACK  BEETLES  IN  AMBER 


THREE    KINDS    OF   A    ROGUE 


OHAROX,  ambitious  of  immortal  shame. 

^      Fame's    dead-wall    daubed   with   his   illustrious 

name — • 

Served  in  the  Senate,  for  our  sins,  his  time, 
Each  word  a  folly  and  eacli  vote  a  crime  ; 
I,aw  for  our  governance  well  skilled  to  make 
By  knowledge  gained  in  study  how  to  break  ; 
Yet  still  by  the  presiding  eye  ignored, 
Which  only  sought  him  when  too  loud  he  snored. 
Auspicious  thunder  ! — when  he  woke  to  vote- 
He  stilled  his  own  to  cut  his  country 's  throat : 
That  rite  performed,  fell  off  again  to  sleep, 
While  statesmen  ages  dead  awoke  to  weep  ! 
For  sedentary  service  all  unfit, 
By  lying  long  disqualified  to  sit, 
Wasting  below  as  he  decayed  aloft, 
His  seat  grown  harder  as  his  brain  grew  soft, 
He  left  the  hall  he  could  not  bring  away, 
And  grateful  millions  blessed  the  happy  day  i 
Whate'er  contention  in  that  hall  is  heard, 
His  sovereign  State  has  still  the  final  word  : 
For  disputatious  statesmen  when  they  roar 
Startle  the  ancient  echoes  of  his  snore, 
Which  from  their  dusty  nooks  expostulate 
And  close  with  stormy  clamor  the  debate. 


BLACK  BEETLES  IX  AMBER 

To  low  melodious  thunders  then  the}'  fade  ; 
Their  murmuring  lullabies  all  ears  invade  ; 
Peace  takes  the  Chair  ;  the  portal  Silence  keeps  ; 
Xo  motion  stirs  the  dark  Lethean  deeps — 
Washoe  has  spoken  and  the  Senate  sleeps. 

ii 

L,o  !  the  new  Sharon  with  a  new  intent, 
Making  no  laws,  but  keen  to  circumvent 
The  laws  of  Nature  (since  he  can't  repeal) 
That  break  his  failing  body  on  the  wheel. 
As  Tantalus  again  and  yet  again 
The  elusive  wave  endeavors  to  restrain 
To  slake  his  awful  thirst,  so  Sharon  tries 
To  purchase  happiness  that  age  denies  ; 
Obtains  the  shadow,  but  the  substance  goes, 
And  hugs  the  thorn,  but  cannot  keep  the  rose  ; 
For  Dead  Sea  fruits  bids  prodigally,  eats, 
And  then,  with  tardy  reformation — cheats. 
Alert  his  faculties  as  three  score  years 
And  four  score  vices  will  permit,  he  nears — • 
Dicing  with  Death — the  finish  of  the  game. 
And  curses  still  his  candle's  wasting  flame, 
The  narrow  circle  of  whose  feeble  glow 
Dims  and  diminishes  at  every  throw. 
Moments  his  losses,  pleasures  are  his  gains, 
Which  even  in  his  grasp  revert  to  pains. 
The  joy  of  grasping  them  alone  remains. 

in 

Ring  up  the  curtain  and  the  play  protract  ! 
Behold  our  Sharon  in  his  last  mad  act. 


24  BLACK  BEETLES  IN  AMBER 

With  man  long  warring,  quarreling  with  God, 

He  crouches  now  beneath  a  woman's  rod 

Predestined  for  his  back  while  yet  it  lay 

Closed  in  an  acorn  which,  one  luckless  day, 

He  stole,  unconscious  of  its  foetal  twig, 

From  the  scant  garner  of  a  sightless  pig. 

With  bleeding  shoulders  pitilessl}r  scored, 

He  bawls  more  lustily  than  once  he  snored. 

The  sympathetic  Comstocks  droop  to  hear, 

And  Carson  river  sheds  a  viscous  tear, 

Which  sturdy  tumble- bugs  assail  amain, 

With  ready  thrift,  and  urge  along  the  plain. 

The  jackass  rabbit  sorrows  as  he  lopes  ; 

The  sage-brush  glooms  along  the  mountain  slopes  ; 

In  rising  clouds  the  poignant  alkali, 

Tearless  itself,  makes  everybody  cry. 

Washoe  canaries  on  the  Geiger  Grade 

Subdue  the  singing  of  their  cavalcade, 

And,  wiping  with  their  ears  the  tears  unshed, 

Grieve  for  their  family's  unlucky  head. 

Virginia  City  intermits  her  tiacle 

And  well-clad  strangers  walk  her  streets  unflayecL 

Nay,  all  Nevada  ceases  work  to  weep 

And  the  recording  angel  goes  to  sleep. 

But  in  his  dreams  his  goose-quill's  creaking  fount 

Augments  the  debits  in  the  long  account. 

And  still  the  continents  and  oceans  ring 

With  royal  torments  of  the  Silver  King  ! 

Incessant  bellowings  fill  all  the  earth, 

Mingled  with  inextinguishable  mirth. 

He  roars,  men  laugh,  Nevadans  weep,  beasts  howl, 

Plash  the  affrighted  fish,  and  shriek  the  fowl  ! 


BLACK  BEETLES  IN  AMBER  *5 

With  monstrous  din  their  blended  thunders  rise, 

Peal  upon  peal,  and  brawl  along  the  skies, 

Startle  in  hell  the  Sharons  as  they  groan, 

And  shake  the  splendors  of  the  great  white  throne  ! 

Still  roaring  outward  through  the  vast  profound, 

The  spreading  circles  of  receding  sound 

Pursue  each  other  in  a  failing  race 

To  the  cold  confines  of  eternal  space  ; 

There  break  and  die  along  that  awful  shore 

Which  God's  own  eyes  have  never  dared  explore  — 

Dark,  fearful,  formless,  nameless  evermore  ! 

Look  to  the  west :     Against  yon  steely  sky 

Lone  Mountain  rears  its  holy  cross  on  high. 

About  its  base  the  meek-faced  dead  are  laid 

To  share  the  benediction  of  its  shade. 

With  crossed  \vhite  hands,  shut  eyes  and  formal  feet, 

Their  nights  are  innocent,  their  days  discreet. 

Sharon,  some  years,  perchance,  remain  of  life — 

Of  vice  and    rreed,    ulgarity  and  strife; 

And  then — God  speed  the  day  if  such  His  will — 

You'll  lie  among  the  dead  you  helped  to  kill, 

And  be  in  good  society  at  last, 

Your  purse  unsilvered  and  your  face  unbrassed. 


96  RLACK  BEETLES  IN  AMBER 


A   MAN 

IpEXNOYER,   Governor  of  Oregon, 

JL      Casting  to  South  his  eye  across  the  bourne. 

Of  his  dominion  (where  the  Palmiped, 

With  leathers  'twixt  his  toes,  paddles  his  marsh v 

Amphibious)  saw  a  rising  cloud  of  hats, 

And  heard  a  faint,  far  sound  of  distant  cheers 

Below  the  swell  of  the  horizon.      "  Lo," 

Cried  one,  "  the  President !  the  President  !  " 

All  footed  webwise  then  took  tip  the  word — 

The  hill  tribes  and  the  tribes  lacustrine  and 

The  folk  riparian  and  littoral, 

Cried  with  one  voice:     "  The  President  !  He  comes  !' 

And  some  there  were  who  flung  their  headgear  tip 

In  emulation  of  the  Southern  mob  ; 

While  some,  more  soberly  disposed,  stood  still 

And  silently  had  fits ;   and  others  made 

Such  reverent  genuflexions  as  they  could, 

Having  that  climate  in  their  bones.     Then  spake 

The  Court  Dunce,  humbly,  as  became  him:   "Sire, 

If  thou,  as  heretofore  thou  hast,  wilt  deign 

To  reap  advantage  of  a  fool's  advice 

By  action  ordered  after  nature's  way, 

As  in  thy  people  manifest  (for  still 

Stupidity's  the  only  wisdom)  thou 

Wilt  get  thee  straight  unto  to  the  border  land 


BLACK  BEETLES  IN  AMBER  27 

To  mark  the  President's  approach  with  such 
Due,  decent  courtesy  as  it  shall  seem 
We  have  in  custom  the  best  warrant  for.' ' 

Pennoyer,  Governor  of  Oregon, 

Eyeing  the  storm  of  hats  which  darkened  all 

The  Southern  sky,  and  hearing  far  hurrahs 

Of  an  exulting  people,  answered  not. 

Then  some  there  were  who  fell  upon  their  knees, 

And  some  upon  their  Governor,  and  sought 

Each  in  his  way,  by  blandishment  or  force, 

To  gain  his  action  to  their  end,      "  Behold," 

They  said,  "  thy  brother  Governor  to  South 

Met  him  even  at  the  gateway  of  his  realm, 

Crook-kneed,  magnetic-handed  and  agrin, 

Lacked  like  a  rainbow— all  things  done  in  form 

Of  due  observance  and  respect.     Shall  we 

Alone  of  all  his  servitors  refuse 

Swift  welcome  to  our  master  and  our  lord  ?  " 

Pennoyer,  Governor  of  Oregon, 

Answered  them  not,  but  turned  his  back  to  them 

And  as  if  speaking  to  himself,  the  while 

He  started  to  retire,  said  :      "  He  be  damned  !  " 

To  that  High  Place  o'er  Portland's  central  block, 

Where  the  Recording  Angel  stands  to  view 

The  sinning  world,  nor  thinks  to  move  his  feet 

Aside  and  look  below,  came  flocking  up 

Inferior  angels,  all  aghast,  and  cried: 

(>  Pennoyer,  Governor  of  Oregon, 

Has  said,  O  what  an  awful  word  ! — too  bad 


28  BLACK  BEETLES  IN  AMBER 

To  be  by  us  repeated  !  "      "  Yes,  I  know,'* 
Said  the  superior  bird — "  I  heard  it  too, 
And  have  already  booked  it.     Pray  observe." 
Splitting  the  giant  tome,  whose  covers  fell 
Apart,  o'ershadowing  to  right  and  left 
The  Eastern  and  the  Western  world,  he  showed 
The  newly  written  entry,  black  and  big, 
Upon  the  credit  side  of  thine  account, 
Pennoyer,  Governor  of  Oregon. 


YE   FOB   TO   CATHAYK 

O  never  an  oathe  sweares  he, 

And  never  a  pig-taile  jerkes  ; 

With  a  brick-batte  he  lie  lurkes 
For  to  buste  ye  crust,  perdie, 
Of  ye  man  from  over  sea, 

A-synging  as  he  werkes. 
For  he  knows  ful  well,  ys  youth, 

A  tricke  of  exceeding  worth  : 
And  he  plans  withouten  ruth 

A  conflagration's  birth  ! 


SAMUEL  SHORTRIDGE 

Like  a  worn  mother  he  attempts  in  vain 
To  still  the  unruly  Crier  of  his  brain: 
The  more  he  rocks  the  cradle  of  his  chin 
The  more  uproarious  grows  the  brat  within, 


BLACK  BEETLES  IN  AMBER  29 


SURPRISED 

SOX  of  mine  age,  these  eyes  lose  their  fire  : 
Be  eyes,  I  pray,  to  thy  dying  sire." 


"  O  father,  fear  not,  for  mine  eyes  are  bright  —  • 
I  read  through  a  millstone  at  dead  of  night." 

"  My  son,  O  tell  me,  who  are  those  men, 
Rushing  like  pigs  to  the  feeding-pen  ?  " 

"  \Velcomers  they  of  a  statesman  grand. 

They'll  shake,  and  then  they  will  pocket,-  his  hand." 

"  Sagacious  youth  with  the  wondrous  eye, 

They  seem  to  throw  up  their  headgear.     Why  ?  " 

"  Because  they've  thrown  up  their  hands  until,  O, 
They're  so  tired  !  —  and    dinners    they've    none    to 
throw." 

"  My  son,  my  son,  though  dull  are  mine  ears, 
I  hear  a  great  sound  like  the  people's  cheers." 

*'  He's  thanking  them,  father,  with  tears  in  his  eyes, 
For  giving  him  lately  that  fine  surprise." 

'  '  My  memory  fails  as  I  near  mine  end  ; 

How  did  they  astonish  their  grateful  friend  ?  " 


30  BLACK  BEETLES  IX  AMBER 

'*  By  letting  him  buy,  like  apples  or  oats, 
With  that  which  has  made  him  so  good,  the  votes 
Which  make  him  so  wise  and  grand  and  great. 
Now,  father,  please  die,  for  'tis  growing  late.'" 


POSTERITY'S  AWARD 

I'D  long  been  dead,  but  I  returned  to  earth. 
Some  small  affairs  posterity  was  making 
A  mess  of,  and  I  came  to  see  that  worth 

Received  its  dues.     I'd  hardly  finished  waking, 
The  grave-mould  still  upon  me,  when  my  eye 
Perceived  a  statue  standing  straight  and  high. 

'Twas  a  colossal  figure  —  bronze  and  gold  — 
Nobly  designed,  in  attitude  commanding. 

A  toga  from  its  shoulders,  fold  on  fold, 

Fell  to  the  pedestal  on  which  'twas  standing. 

Nobility  it  had  and  splendid  grace, 

And  all  it  should  have  had  —  except  a  face  ! 

It  showed  no  features  :  not  a  trace  nor  sign 
Of  any  eyes  or  nose  could  be  detected'  — 

On  the  smooth  oval  of  its  front  no  line 

Where  sites  for  mouths  are  commonly  selected. 

All  blank  and  blind  its  faulty  head  it  reared. 
this  be  said  :   'twas  generously  eared. 


Seeing  these  things,  I  straight  began  to  guess 
For  whom  this  mighty  image  was  intended. 


BLACK  BEETLES  AV  AMBER  31 

'*  The  head,"  I  cried,  "  is  Upton's,  and  the  dress 

Is  Parson  Bartlett's  own.     True,  his  cloak  ended 
Flush  with  his  lowest  vertebra,  but  no 
Sane  sculptor  ever  made  a  toga  so. 

Then  on  the  pedestal  these  words  I  read  : 
"  Erected  Eighteen  Hundred  Ninety-seven  " 
(Saint  Christofer  !  how  fast  the  time  had  sped  ! 
Of  course  it  naturally  does  in  Heaven) 

"  To "  (here  a  blank  space  for  the  name  began) 

"  The  Nineteenth  Century's  Great  Foremost  Man  !  '* 

"  Completed"  the  inscription  ended,  "in 

The  Year  Three  Thousand" — which  was  just  arriving, 
By  Jove!  thought  I,  'twould  make  the  founders  grin 

To  learn  whose  fame  so  long  has  been  surviving — 
To  read  the  name  posterity  will  place 
In  that  blank  void,  and  view  the  finished  face. 

Even  as  I  gazed,  the  year  Three  Thousand  came, 
And  then  by  acclamation  all  the  people 

Decreed  whose  was  our  century's  best  fame  ; 
Then  scaffolded  the  statue  like  a  steeple, 

To  make  the  likeness  ;  and  the  name  was  sunk 

Deep  in  the  pedestal's  metallic  trunk. 

Whose  was  it  ?     Gentle  reader,  pray  excuse 
The  seeming  rudeness,  but  I  can't  consent  to 

Be  so  forehanded  with  important  news. 

'Twas  neither  yours  nor  mine — let  that  content  you. 

If  not,  the  name  I  must  surrender,  which, 

Upon  a  dead  man's  word,  was  George  K.  Fitch  1 


32  BLACK  BEETLES  IN  AM  HER 


AN  ART  CRITIC 

IRA  P.  RANKIN,  you've  a  nasal  name — 
I'll   sound   it   through    "the   speaking-trump  ot 

fame, ' ' 

And  wondering  nations,  hearing  from  afar 
The  brazen  twang  of  its  resounding  jar, 
Shall  say  :    "  These  bards  are  an  uncommon  class— 
They  blow  their  noses  with  a  tube  of  brass  !  " 
Rankin  !  ye  gods!  if  Influenza  pick 
Our  names  at  christening,  and  such  names  stick, 
Let's  all  be  born  when  summer  suns  withstand 
Her  prevalence  and  chase  her  from  the  land, 
And  healing  breezes  generously  help 
To  shield  from  death  each  ailing  human  whelp  ! 
"  What's  in  a   name?"      There's  much  at   least  in 

yours 

That  the  pained  ear  unwillingly  endures, 
And  much  to  make  the  suffering  soul,  I  fear, 
Knvy  the  lesser  anguish  of  the  ear. 

So  you  object  to  Cytherea  !     Do, 
The  picture  was  not  painted,  sir,  for  you  ! 
Your  mind  to  gratify  and  taste  address, 
The  masking  dove  had  been  a  dove  the  less. 
Provincial  censor  !  all  untaught  in  art, 
With  mind  indecent  and  indecent  heart, 
Do  you  not  know — nay,  why  should  I  explain  ? 
Instruction,  argument  alike  were  vain — 
I'll  show  you  reasons  when  you  show  me  brain 


BLACK  BEETLES  IN  AMBER  33 


THE   SPIRIT   OF   A   SPONGE 

I  DREAMED  one  night  that  Stephen  Massett  died, 
And  for  admission  up  at  Heaven  applied. 
Who  are  yon  ?  "   asked  St.  Peter.     Massett  said  : 
Jeerns  Pipes,  of  Pipesville. "    Peter  bowed  his  head, 
Opened  the  gates  and  said  :  "I'm  glad  to  know  you, 
And  wish  we'd  something  better,  sir,  to  show  you." 
Don't  mention  it,"  said  Stephen,  looking  bland, 
And  was  about  to  enter,  hat  in  hand, 
When  from  a  cloud  below  such  fumes  arose 
As  tickled  tenderly  his  conscious  nose. 
He  paused,  replaced  his  hat  upon  his  head, 
Turned  back  and  to  the  saintly  warden  said, 
O'er  his  already  sprouting  wings  :   "I  swear 
I  smell  some  broiling  going  on  down  there  !  " 
So  Massett' s  paunch,  attracted  by  the  smell, 
Followed  his  nose  and  found  a  place  in  Hell. 


ORNITHANTHROPOS 

<(Ivet  John  P.  Irish  rise  !  "    the  edict  rang 
As  when  Creation  into  being  sprang  ! 
Nature,  not  clearly  understanding,  tried 
To  make  a  bird  that  on  the  air  could  ride. 
But  naught  could  baffle  the  creative  plan — 
Despite  her  efforts  'twas  almost  a  man. 
Yet  he  had  risen — to  the  bird  a  twin — 
Had  she  but  fixed  a  wing  upon  his  chin. 


34  BLACK  BEETLES  IN  AMBER 


TO   E.    S.    SALOMON 

Who  in  a   Memorial   Dav   oration    protested    bitterly   against 
decorating  tlie  graves  of  Confederate  dead. 

TTTHAT  !  Salomon!    .such  words  from  you, 
*  ^    Who  call  yourself  a  soldier  ?     Well, 

The  Southern  brother  where  he  fell 
Slept  all  your  base  oration  through. 

Alike  to  him — he  cannot  know 

Your  praise  or  blame  :  as  little  harm 
Your  tongue  can  do  him  as  your  arm 

A  quarter- century  ago. 

The  brave  respect  the  brave.  The  brave 
Respect  the  dead  ;  but  you — you  draw 
That  ancient  blade,  the  ass's  jaw, 

And  shake  it  o'er  a  hero's  grave. 


Are  you  not  he  who  makes  to-day 
A  merchandise  of  old.  renown 
Which  he  persuades  this  easy  town 

He  won  in  battle  far  away  ? 

Nay,  those  the  fallen  who  revile 

Have  ne'er  before  the  living  stood 
And  stoutly  made  their  b-.iUle  good 

And  erected  danger  with  a  <  • 


nLACK  BEETLES  IN  AMBER 

What  if  the  dead  whom  still  you  hate 

Were  wrong  ?     Are  you  so  surely  right  ? 
We  know  the  issue  of  the  fight — 

The  sword  is  but  an  advocate. 

Men  live  and  die,  and  other  men 
Arise  with  knowledges  diverse  : 
What  seemed  a  blessing  seems  a  curse, 

And  Now  is  still  at  odds  with  Then. 

The  years  go  on,  the  old  comes  back 
To  mock  the  new — beneath  the  sun 
Is  nothing  new  ;  ideas  run 

Recurrent  in  an  endless  track. 

What  most  we  censure,  men  as  wrise 
Have  reverently  practiced  ;    nor 
Will  future  wisdom  fail  to  war 

On  principles  we  dearly  prize. 

We  do  not  know — we  can  but  deem, 
And  he  is  loyalest  and  best 
Who  takes  the  light  full  on  his  breast 

And  follows  it  throughout  the  dream. 

The  broken  light,  the  shadows  wide — 
Behold  the  battle-field  displayed  ! 
God  save  the  vanquished  from  the  blade, 

The  victor  from  the  victor's  pride  ! 

If,  Salomon,  the  blessed  dew 

That  falls  upon  the  Blue  and  Gray 
Is  powerless  to  wash  away 

The  sin  of  differing  from  you, 


36  BLACK  BEETLES  IN  AMBER 

Remember  how  the  flood  of  years 
Has  rolled  across  the  erring  slain  ; 
Remember,  too,  the  cleansing  rain 

Of  widows'  and  of  orphans'  tears 

The  dead  are  dead — let  that  atone  : 

And  though  with  equal  hand  we  strew 
The  blooms  on  saint  and  sinner  too, 

Yet  God  will  know  to  choose  his  own. 

The  wretch,  whate'er  his  life  and  lot, 
Who  does  not  love  the  harmless  dead 
With  all  his  heart  and  all  his  head — 

May  God  forgive  him — /  shall  not. 

When,  Salomon,  you  come  to  quaff 
The  Darker  Cup  with  meeker  face, 
I,  loving  you  at  last,  shall  trace 

Upon  your  tomb  this  epitaph  : 

"  Draw  near,  ye  generous  and  brave — 

Kneel  round  this  monument  and  weep : 
It  covers  one  who  tried  to  keep 
A  flower  from  a  dead  man's  grave." 


DENNIS   KEARNEY 

Your  influence,  my  friend,  has  gathered  head — • 
To  east  and  west  its  tides  encroaching  spread. 
There'll  be,  on  all  God's  fool-stool,  when  they  meet, 
No  clean  spot  left  for  God  to  set  His  feet 


BLACK  BEETLES  IN  AMBER  37 


FINIS 

O  TROLLING  at  sunset  in  my  native  land, 
^     With  fruits  and  flowers  thick  on  either  hand, 
I  crossed  a  Shadow  flung  athwart  my  way, 
Emerging  on  a  waste  of  rock  and  sand. 

"  The  apples  all  are  gone  from  here,"  I  said, 
"  The  roses  perished  and  their  spirits  fled. 

I  will  go  back.  "     A  voice  cried  out :    "The  man 
Is  risen  who  eternally  was  dead  !  " 

I  turned  and  saw  an  angel  standing  there, 
Newly  descended  from  the  heights  of  air. 

Sweet-eyed  compassion  filled  his  face,  his  hands 
A  naked  sword  and  golden  trumpet  bare. 

*'  Nay,  'twas  not  death,  the  shadow  that  I  crossed," 
I  said.      "  Its  chill  was  but  a  touch  of  frost. 

It  made  me  gasp,  but  quickly  I  came  through, 
With  breath  recovered  ere  it  scarce  was  lost." 

'Twas  the  same  land  !  Remembered  mountains  thrust 
Grayed  heads  asky,  and  every  dragging  gust, 
In  ashen  valleys  where  my  sons  had  reaped, 
Stirred  in  familiar  river-beds  the  dust. 


38  BLACK  BEETLES  IX  AMBER 

Some  heights,  where  once  the  traveler  was  shown 
The  youngest  and  the  proudest  city  known, 
Lifted  smooth  ridges  in  the  steely  light — 
Bleak,  desolate  acclivities  of  stone. 

Where  Iliad  worshiped  at  my  father's  tomb, 
Within  a  massive  temple's  awful  gloom, 
A  jackal  slunk  along  the  naked  rock, 
Affrighted  by  some  prescience  of  doom. 

Man's  vestiges  were  nowhere  to  be  found, 
Save  one  brass  mausoleum  on  a  mound 

(I  knew  it  well)  spared  by  the  artist  Time 
To  emphasize    the  desolation  round. 

Into  the  stagnant  sea  the  sullen  sun 
Sank  behind  bars  of  crimson,  one  by  one. 
"  Eternity's  at  hand  !  "   I  cried  aloud. 
<(  Eternity,' '  the  angel  said,  "  is  done. 

"  For  man  is  ages  dead  in  every  zone  ; 
The  angels  all  are  dead  but  I  alone  ; 

The  devils,  too,  are  cold  enough  at  last, 
And  God  lies  dead  before  the  great  white  throne  ! 

"  'Tis  foreordained  that  1  bestride  the  shore 
When  all  are  gone  (as  Gabriel  did  before, 

When  I  had  throttled  the  last  man  alive) 
And  swear  Eternity  shall  be  no  more. " 

"  O  Azrael — O  Prince  of  Death,  declare 

Why  conquered  I  the  grave  ?  "  I  cried.    "What  rare, 

Conspicuous  virtues  won  this  boon  for  me  ?  " 
"  You've  been  revived,  "  he  said,  "  to  hear  me  swear." 


BLACK  BEETLES  IN  AMBER  39 

Then  let  me  creep  again  beneath  the  grass, 
And  knock  thou  at  yon  pompous  tomb  of  brass. 

I  fears  are  what  you  want,  Charles  Crocker's  there — 
Betwixt  the  greatest  ears,  the  greatest  ass." 

He  rapped,  and  while  the  hollow  echoes  rang, 
Out  at  the  door  a  curst  hyena  sprang 

And  fled  !     Said  Azrael:    "  His  soul's  escaped," 
And  closed  the  brazen  portal  with  a  bang. 


THE   VETERAN 

JOHN  JACKSOX,  once  a  soldier  bold, 
Hath  still  a  martial  feeling  ; 
So,  when  he  sees  a  foe,  behold  ! 
He  charges  him — with  stealing. 

He  cares  not  how  much  ground  to-day 
He  gives  for  men  to  doubt  him  ; 

lie's  used  to  giving  ground,  they  say, 
Who  lately  fought  with — out  him. 


When,  for  the  battle  to  be  won, 

His  gallantry  was  needed, 
They  say  each  time  a  loaded  gun 

Went  off — so,  likewise,  he  did. 

And  when  discharged  (for  war's  a  sport 

So  hot  he  had  to  leave  it) 
He  made  a  very  loud  report, 

But  no  one  did  believe  it. 


40  BLACK  BEETLES  IN  AMBER 


AN    "EXHIBIT  ' 

OLDENSON  hanged  !  Well,  Heaven  forbid 

That  I  should  smile  above  him  : 
Though  truth  to  tell,  I  never  did 
Exactly  love  him. 

It  can't  be  wrong,  though,  to  rejoice 

That  his  unpleasing  capers 
Are  ended.     Silent  is  his  voice 
In  all  the  papers. 

No  longer  he's  a  show  :  no  more, 

Bear-like,  his  den  he's  walking. 
No  longer  can  he  hold  the  floor 
When  I'd  be  talking. 

The  laws  that  govern  jails  are  bad 

If  such  displays  are  lawful. 
The  fate  of  the  assassin's  sad, 
But  ours  is  awful ! 

What !  shall  a  wretch  condemned  to  die 

In  shame  upon  the  gibbet 
Be  set  before  the  public  eye 
As  an   "exhibit"?— 


BLACK  BEETLES  IN  AMBER 

His  looks,  his  actions  noted  down, 

His  words  if  light  or  solemn, 
And  all  this  hawked  about  the  town — 
So  much  a  column  ? 

The  press,  of  course,  will  publish  news 

However  it  may  get  it  ; 
But  blast  the  sheriff  who'll  abuse 
His  powers  to  let  it  ! 

Xay,  this  is  not  ingratitude  ; 

I'm  no  reporter,  truly, 
Nor  yet  an  editor.     I'm  rude 
Because  unruly — 

Because  I  burn  with  shame  and  rage 

Beyond  my  power  of  telling 
To  see  assassins  in  a  cage 
And  keepers  yelling. 

"  Walk  up  !    Walk  up  !  "  the  showman  cries 
"  Observe  the  lion's  poses, 
His  stormy  mane,  his  glooming  eyes, 
His — hold  your  noses  !  " 

How  long,  O  Lord,  shall  Law  and  Right 

Be  mocked  for  gain  or  glory, 
And  angels  weep  as  they  recite 
The  shameful  story  ? 


BLACK  BEETLES  IN  AMBER 


THE  TRANSMIGRATIONS   OF   A    SOUL 

WHAT  !  Pixley,  must  I  hear  you  call  the  roll 
Of  all  the  vices  that  infest  your  soul  ? 
Was't  not  enough  that  lately  you  did  bawl 
Your  money- worship  in  the  ears  of  all  ?  * 
Still  must  you  crack  your  brazen  cheek  to  tell 
That  though  a  miser  you're  a  sot  as  well  ? 
Still  must  I  hear  how  low  your  taste  has  sunk — 
From  getting  money  down  to  getting  drunk  ?  f 

Who  worships  money,  damning  all  beside, 
And  shows  his  callous  knees  with  pious  pride, 
Speaks  with  half-knowledge,  for  no  man  e'er  scorns 
His  own  possessions,  be  they  coins  or  corns. 
You  Ve  money,  neighbor  ;  had  you  gentle  birth 
You'd  know,  as  now  you  never  can,  its  worth. 

You've  money  ;  learning  is  beyond  your  scope, 

Deaf  to  your  envy,  stubborn  to  your  hope. 

But  if  upon  your  undeserving  head 

Science  and  letters  had  their  glory  shed  ; 

If  in  the  cavern  of  your  skull  the  light 

Of  knowledge  shone  where  now  eternal  night 

Breeds  the  blind,  poddy,  vapor-fatted  naughts 

Of  cerebration  that  you  think  are  thoughts — 

Black  bats  in  cold  and  dismal  corners  hung 

That  squeak  and  gibber  when  you  move  your  tongue- 

You  would  not  write,  in  Avarice's  defense, 


BLACK  BEETLES  IN  AMBER  43 

A  senseless  eulogy  on  lack  of  sense, 
Xor  show  your  eagerness  to  sacrifice 
All  noble  virtues  to  one  loathsome  vice. 

You've  money  ;    if  you'd  manners  too  you'd  shame 

To  boast  your  weakness  or  your  baseness  name. 

Appraise  the  things  you  have,  but  measure  not 

The  things  denied  to  your  unhappy  lot. 

He  values  manners  lighter  than  a  cork 

Who  combs  his  beard  at  table  with  a  fork. 

Hare  to  seek  sin  and  tortoise  to  forsake, 

The  laws  of  taste  condemn  you  to  the  stake 

To  expiate,  where  all  the  world  may  see, 

The  crime  of  growing  old  disgracefully. 

Religion,  learning,  birth  and  manners,  too, 
All  that  distinguishes  a  man  from  you, 
Pray  damn  at  will :  all  shining  virtues  gain 
An  added  luster  from  a  rogue's  disdain. 
But  spare  the  young  that  proselyting  sin, 
A  toper's  apotheosis  of  gin. 
If  not  our  young,  at  least  our  pigs  may  claim 
Exemption  from  the  spectacle  of  shame  ! 

Are  you  not  he  who  lately  out  of  shape 

Blew  a  brass  trumpet  to  denounce  the  grape  ? — 

Who  led  the  brave  teetotalers  afield 

And  slew  your  leader  underneath  your  shield? — 

Swore  that  no  man  should  drink  unless  he  flung 

Himself  across  your  body  at  the  bung  ? 

Who  vowed  if  you'd  the  power  you  would  fine 

The  Son  of  God  for  making  water  wine  ? 


44  BLACK  BEETLES  IN  AMBER 

All  trails  to  odium  you  tread  and  boast, 
Yourself  enamored  of  the  dirtiest  most. 
One  day  to  be  a  miser  you  aspire, 
The  next  to  wallow  drunken  in  the  mire  ; 
The  third,  lo  !    you're  a  meritorious  liar  !  § 
Pray,  in  the  catalogue  of  all  your  graces, 
Have  theft  and  cowardice  no  honored  places  ? 

Yield  thee,  great  Satan — here's  a  rival  name 

With  all  thy  vices  and  but  half  thy  shame  I 

Quick  to  the  letter  of  the  precept,  quick 

To  the  example  of  the  elder  Nick  ; 

With  as  great  talent  as  was  e'er  applied 

To  fool  a  teacher  and  to  fog  a  guide  ; 

With  slack  allegiance  and  boundless  greed, 

To  paunch  the  profit  of  a  traitor  deed, 

He  aims  to  make  thy  glory  all  his  own, 

And  crowd  his  master  from  the  infernal  throne  ! 

*  \Ve  are  not  writing  this  paragraph  for  any  other  purpose 
than  to  protest  against  this  never  ending  cant,  affectation,  and 
hypocrisy  about  money.  It  is  one  of  the  best  things  in  this 
world — better  than  religion,  or  good  birth,  or  learning,  or  good 
manners.  —  Tlie  Argonaut. 

|  Now,  it  just  occurs  to  us  that  some  of  our  temperance 
friends  will  take  issue  with  us,  and  say  that  this  is  bad  doctrine, 
and  that  it  is  ungentlemanly  to  get  drunk  under  any  circum 
stances  or  under  any  possible  conditions.  We  do  not  think  so. 
—  The  same. 

\  The  man  or  woman  who,  for  the  sake  of  benefiting  others, 
protecting  them  in  their  lives,  property,  or  reputation,  sparing 
their  feelings,  contributing  to  their  enjoyment,  or  increasing 
their  pleasures,  will  tell  a  lie,  deserves  to  be  rewarded. —  The 
same. 


BLACK  BEETLES  IN  AMBER  45 


AX    ACTOR 

SOME  one  ('tis  hardly  new)  has  oddly  said 
The  color  of  a  trumpet's  blare  is  red  ; 
And  Joseph  Bmmett  thinks  the  crimson  shame 
On  woman's  cheek  a  trumpet-note  of  fame. 
The  more  the  red  storm  rises  round  her  nose— 
The  more  her  eyes  averted  seek  her  toes, 
He  fancies  all  the  louder  he  can  hear 
The  tube  resounding  in  his  spacious  ear, 
And,  all  his  varied  talents  to  exert, 
Darkens  his  dullness  to  display  his  dirt. 
And  when  the  gallery's  indecent  crowd, 
And  gentlemen  below,  with  hisses  loud, 
In  hot  contention  (these  his  art  to  crown, 
And  those  his  naked  nastiness  to  drown) 
Make  such  a  din  that  cheeks  erewhile  aflame 
Grow  white  and  in  their  fear  forget  their  shame, 
With  impudence  imperial,  sublime, 
Unmoved,  the  patient  actor  bides  his  time, 
Till  storm  and  counter-storm  are  both  allayed, 
Like  donkeys,  each  by  t'other  one  outbrayed. 
When  all  the  place  is  silent  as  a  mouse 
One  slow,  suggestive  gesture  clears  the  house  ! 


46  BLACK  BEETLES  IN  AMBER 


FAMINE'S   REALM 

^  I^O  him  in  whom  the  love  of  Nature  has 
-*-      Imperfectly  supplanted  the  desire 
And  dread  necessity  of  food,  your  shore, 
Fair  Oakland,  is  a  terror.     Over  all 
Your  sunny  level,  from  Tamaletowti 
To  where  the  Pestuary's  fragrant  ^lime, 
With  dead  dogs  studded,  bears  its  ailing  fleet, 
Broods  the  still  menace  of  starvation.     Bones 
Of  men  and  women  bleach  along  th~  ways 
And  pampered  vultures  sleep  upon  the  trees. 
It  is  a  land  of  death,  and  Famine  there 
Holds  sovereignty  ;  though  some  there  be  her  sway 
Who  challenge,  and  intrenched  in  larders  live, 
Drawing  their  sustentation  from  abroad. 
But  woe  to  him,  the  stranger !     He  shall  die 
As  die  the  early  righteous  in  the  bud 
And  promise  of  their  prime.     He,  venturesome 
To  penetrate  the  wilds  rectangular 
Of  grass-grown  ways  luxuriant  of  blooms, 
Frequented  of  the  bee  and  of  the  blithe, 
Bold  squirrel,  strays  with  heedless  feet  afar 
From  human  habitation  and  is  lost 
In  mid- Broadway.     There  hunger  seizes  him, 
And  (careless  man!  deeming  God's  providence 
Extends  so  far)  he  has  not  wherewithal 
To  bate  its  urgency.     Then,  lo  !  appears 


BLACK  BEETLES  IN  AMBER  47 

A  mealery — a  restaurant — a  place 
Where  poison  battles  famine,  and  the  two, 
Like  fish-hawks  warring  in  the  upper  skj~ 
For  that  which  one  has  taken  from  the  deep, 
Manage  between  them  to  dispatch  the  prey. 
He  enters  and  leaves  hope  behind.     There  ends 
His  history.     Anon  his  bones,  clean-picked 
By  buzzards  (with  the  bones  himself  had  picke:!, 
Incautious)  line  the  highway.     O,  my  friends, 
Of  all  felonious  and  deadlywise 
Devices  of  the  Knemy  of  Souls, 
Planted  along  the  waj'S  of  life  to  snare 
Man's  mortal  and  immortal  part  alike, 
The  Oakland  restaurant  is  chief.     It  lives 
That  man  may  die.     It  flourishes  that  life 
May  wither.     Its  foundation  stones  repose 
On  human  hearts  and  hopes.     I've  seen  in  it 
Crabs  stewed  in  milk  and  salad  offered  up 
With  dressing  so  unholily  compound 
That  it  included  flour  and  sugar  !     Yea, 
I've  eaten  dog  there  ! — dog,  as  I'm  a  man, 
Dog  seethed  in  sewage  of  the  town  !     Xo  more — 
Thy  hand.  Dyspepsia,  assumes  the  pen 
And  scrawls  a  tortured  ' '  Finis  ' '  on  the  page. 


48  BLACK  BEETLES  IN  AMBER 


THK   MACKAIAD 

MACKAY'S  hot  wrath  to  Bonynge,  direful  spring 
Of  blows  unnumbered,  heavenly  goddess, sing — 
That  wrath  which  hurled  to  Hellman's  office  floor 
Two  heroes,  mutually  smeared  with  gore, 
Whose  hair  in  handfuls  marked  the  dire  debate, 
And  riven  coat-tails  testified  their  hate. 
Sing,  muse,  what  first  their  indignation  fired, 
What  words  augmented  it,  by  whom  inspired. 

First,  the  great  Bonynge  comes  upon  the  scene 

And  asks  the  favor  of  the  British  Queen. 

Suppliant  he  stands  and  urges  all  his  claim  : 

His  wealth,  his  portly  person  and  his  name, 

His  habitation  in  the  setting  sun, 

As  child  of  nature;  and  his  suit  he  won. 

No  more  the  Sovereign,  wearied  with  his  plea, 

From  slumber's  chain  her  faculties  can  free. 

Low  and  more  low  the  royal  eyelids  creep, 

She  gives  the  assenting  nod  and  falls  asleep. 

Straightway  the  Bonynges  all  invade  the  Court 

And  telegraph  the  news  to  every  port. 

Beneath  the  seas,  red-hot,  the  tidings  fly, 

The  cables  crinkle  and  the  fishes  fry  ! 

The  world,  awaking  like  a  startled  bat, 

Exclaims  :     "A  Bonynge  ?     What  the  devil's  that  ?  " 

Mackay,  meanwhile,  to  envy  all  attent, 

Untaught  to  spare,  unable  to  relent, 


KLACk'  BEETLES  IX  AMRER  49 

Walks  in  our  town  on  needles  and  on  pins, 
And  in  a  mean,  revengeful  spirit — grins  ! 

Sing,  muse,  what  next  to  break  the  peace  occurred — 

What  act  uncivil,  what  unfriendly  word  ? 

The  god  of  Bosh  ascending  from  his  pool, 

Where  since  creation  he  has  played  the  fool, 

Clove  the  blue  slush,  as  other  gods  the  sky, 

And,  waiting  but  a  moment's  space  to  dry, 

Touched  Bonynge  with  his  finger-tip.      "  O  son,  " 

He  said,    "  alike  of  nature  and  a  gun, 

Knowest  not  Mackay's  insufferable  sin? 

Hast  thou  not  heard  that  he  doth  stand  and  grin  ? 

Arise  !   assert  thy  manhood,  and  attest 

The  uncommercial  spirit  in  thy  breast. 

Avenge  thine  honor,  for  by  Jove  I  swear 

Thou  shalt  not  else  be  my  peculiar  care  ! ' ' 

He  spake,  and  ere  his  worshiper  could  kneel 

Had  dived  into  his  slush  pool,  head  and  heel. 

Full  of  the  god  and  to  revenges  nerved, 

And  conscious  of  a  will  that  never  swerved, 

Bonynge  set  sail  :  the  world  beyond  the  wave 

As  gladly  took  him  as  ;;he  other  gave. 

Xew  York  received  him,  but  a  shudder  ran 

Through  all  the  western  coast,  which  knew  the  man  ; 

And  science  said  that  the  seismic  action 

Was  owing  to  an  asteroid's  impaction. 

i 

O  goddess,  sing  what  Bonynge  next  essayed. 
Did  he  unscabbard  the  avenging  blade, 
The  long  spear  brandish  and  porrect  the  shield, 
Havoc  the  town  and  devast^t^  the  field  ? 


5o  BLACK  BEETLES  IX  AMBEX 

His  sacred  thirst  for  blood  did  he  allay 

By  halving  the  unfortunate  Mackay  ? 

Small  were  the  profit  and  the  joy  to  him 

To  hew  a  base-born  person,  limb  from  limb. 

L,et  vulgar  souls  to  low  revenge  incline, 

That  of  diviner  spirits  is  divine. 

Bonynge  at  noonday  stood  in  public  places 

And  (with  regard  to  the  Mackays)  made  faces  ! 

Before  those  formidable  frowns  and  scowls 

The  dogs  fled,  tail-tucked,  with  affrighted  howls, 

And  horses,  terrified,  with  flying  feet 

O'erthrew  the  apple-stands  along  the  street, 

Involving  the  metropolis  in  vast 

Financial  ruin  1     Man  himself,  aghast, 

Retreated  east  and  west  and  north  and  south 

Before  the  menace  of  that  twisted  mouth, 

Till  Jove,  in  answer  to  their  prayers,  sent  Might 

To  veil  the  dreadful  visage  from  their  sight  I 

Such  were  the  causes  of  the  horrid  strife- 
The  mother-wrongs  which  nourished  it  to  life, 
O,  for  a  quill  from  an  archangel's  wing  ! 
O,  for  a  voice  that's  adequate  to  sing 
The  splendor  and  the  terror  of  the  fray, 
The  scattered  hair,  the  coat-tails  all  astray, 
The  parted  collars  and  the  gouts  of  gore 
Reeking  and  smoking  on  the  banker's  floor, 
The  interlocking  limbs,  embraces  dire, 
Revolving  bodies  and  deranged  attire ! 

Vain,  vain  the  trial :  'tis  vouchsafed  to  none 
To  vSing  two  millionaires  rolled  into  one  ! 


BLACK  BEETLES  IN  AlfBER  51 

My  hand  and  pen  their  offices  refuse, 

And  hoarse  and  hoarser  grows  the  weary  inu.se. 

Alone  remains,  to  tell  of  the  event, 

Abandoned,  lost  and  variously  rent, 

The  Bou v n ere  nethermost  habiliment. 


A   SONG   IN    PRAISK 

TTAIL,  blessed  Blunder  !  golden  idol,  hail  !- 
*--*-     Clay-footed  deity  of  all  who  fail. 
Celestial  image,  let  thy  glory  shine, 
Thy  feet  concealing,  but  a  lamp  to  mine. 
Let  me,  at  seasons  opportune  and  fit, 
By  turns  adore  thee  and  by  turns  commit. 
In  thy  high  service  let  me  ever  be 
(Yet  never  serve  thee  as  my  critics  me) 
Happy  and  fallible,  content  to  feel 
I  blunder  chiefly  when  to  thee  I  kneel. 
But  best  felicity  is  his  thy  praise 
Who  litters  unaware  in  works  and  ways — 
Who  laborare  est  orare  proves, 
And  feels  thy  suasion  wheresoe'er  he  moves, 
Serving  thy  purpose,  not  thine  altar,  still, 
And  working,  for  he  thinks  it  his,  ihy  will. 
If  such  a  life  with  blessings  be  not  fraught, 
I  envy  Peter  Robertson  for  naught. 


BLACK  BEETLES  IN  A 


A   POET'S   FATHER 

TTTELCKER,  I'm  told,  can  boast  a  father  great 
^  V     And  honored  in  the  service  of  the  State. 
Public  Instruction  all  his  mind  employs — 
He  guides  its  methods  and  its  wage  enjoys. 
Prime  Pedagogue,  imperious  and  grand, 
He  waves  his  ferule  o'er  a  studious  land 
Where  humming  youth,  intent  upon  the  page, 
Thirsting  for  knowledge  with  a  noble  rage, 
Drink  dry  the  whole  Pierian  spring  and  ask 
To  slake  their  fervor  at  his  private  flask. 
Arrested  by  the  terror  of  his  frown, 
The  vaulting  spit-ball  drops  untimely  down  • 
The  fly  impaled  on  the  tormenting  pin 
Stills  in  his  awful  glance  its  dizzy  din  ; 
Beneath  that  stern  regard  the  chewing-gum 
Which    writhed    and  squeaked    between  the  teeth  is 

dumb  ; 

Obedient  to  his  will  the  dunce-cap  flies 
To  perch  upon  the  brows  of  the  unwise  ; 
The  supple  switch  forsakes  the  parent  wood 
To  settle  where  'twill  do  the  greatest  good, 
Puissant  still,  as  when  of  old  it  strove 
With  Solomon  for  spitting  on  the  stove 
Learned  Professor,  variously  great, 
Guide,  guardian,  instructor  of  the  State— 
Quick  to  discern  and  zealous  to  correct 


BLACK  BEETLES  IX  AMBER 

The  faults  which  .mar  the  public  intellect 
From  where  of  Siskiyou  the  northern  bound 
Is  frozen  eternal  to  the  sunless  ground 
To  where  in  San  Diego's  torrid  clime 
The  swarthy  Greaser  swelters  in  his  grime- 
Beneath  your  stupid  nose  can  you  not  see 
The  dunce  whom  once  you  dandled  on  your  knee? 
O  mighty  master  of  a  thousand  schools, 
Stop  teaching  wisdom,  or  stop  breeding  fools 


A    COWARD 

TTTiiKX  Pickering,  distressed  by  an   "  attack, ': 

*  ^      Has  the  strange  insolence  to  answer  back 
He  hides  behind  a  name  that  is  a  lie, 
And  out  of  shadow  falters  his  reply. 
God  knows  him,  though — identified  alike 
By  hardihood  to  rise  and  fear  to  strike, 
And  fitly  to  rebuke  his  sins  decrees, 
That,  hide  from  others  with  what  care  he  please, 
Xight  sha'n't  be  black  enough  nor  earth  so  wide 
That  from  himself  himself  can  ever  hide  ! 
Hard  fate  indeed  to  feel  at  every  breath 
His  burden  of  identity  till  death  ! — 
No  moment's  respite  from  the  immortal  load, 
To  think  himself  a  serpent  or  a  toad, 
Or  dream,  with  a  divine,  ecstatic  glow, 
He's  long  been  dead  and  canonized  a  crow  ! 


54  BLACK  BEETLES  IN  AMBER 


TO    MY    LIARS 

A  TTEND,  mine  enemies  of  all  degrees, 
^-"^     From  sandlot  orators  and  sand  lot  fleas 
To  fallen  gentlemen  and  rising  louts 
Who  babble  slander  at  your  drinking  bouts, 
And,  filled  with  unfamiliar  wine,  begin 
Lies  drowned,  ere  born,  in  more  congenial  gin. 
But  most  attend,  ye  persons  of  the  press 
Who  live  (though  why,  yourselves  alo:ie  can  guess) 
In  hope  deferred,  ambitious  still  to  shine 
By  hating  me  at  half  a  cent  a  line— 
Like  drones  among  the  bees  of  brighter  wing, 
Sunless  to  shine  and  impotent  to  sting. 
To  estimate  in  easy  verse  I'll  try 
The  controversial  value  of  a  lie. 
So  lend  your  ears — God  knows  you  have  enough  !- 
I  mean  to  teach,  and  if  I  can't  I'll  cuff. 

A  lie  is  wicked,  so  the  priests  declare  ; 

But  that  to  us  is  neither  here  nor  there. 

'Tis  worse  than  wicked,  it  is  vulgar  too  ; 

N'importe — with  that  we've  nothing  here  to  do. 

If  'twere  artistic  I  would  lie  till  death, 

And  shape  a  falsehood  with  my  latest  breath. 

Parrhasius  never  more  did  pity  lack, 

The  while  his  model  writhed  upon  the  rack. 

Than  I  for  my  collaborator's  pain, 


BLACK  BEETLES  IN  AMBER  55 

Who,  stabbed  with  fibs  again  and  yet  again, 
Would  vainly  seek  to  move  my  stubborn  heart 
If  slander  were,  and  wit  were  not,  an  art. 
The  ill-bred  and  illiterate  can  lie 
As  fast  as  you,  and  faster  far  than  I. 
Shall  I  compete,  then,  in  a  strife  accurst 
Where  Allen  Formaii  is  an  easy  first, 
And  where  the  second  prize  is  rightly  flung 
To  Charley  Shortrid«:e  or  to  Mike  de  Young1  ? 


In  mental  combat  but  a  single  end 

Inspires  the  formidable  to  contend. 

Xot  by  the  raw  recruit's  ambition  fired, 

By  whom  foul  blows,  though  harmless,  are  admired 

Xot  by  the  coward's  zeal,  who,  on  his  knee 

Behind  the  bole  of  his  protecting  tree, 

vSo  curves  his  musket  that  the  bark  it  fits, 

And,  firing,  blows  the  weapon  into  bits  ; 

But  with  the  noble  aim  of  one  whose  heart 

Values  his  foeman  for  he  loves  his  art 

The  veteran  debater  moves  afield, 

Untaught  to  libel  as  untaught  to  yield. 

Dear  foeman  mine,  I've  but  this  end  in  view  - 

That  to  prevent  which  most  you  wish  to  do. 

What,  then,  arc  you  most  eager  to  be  at? 

To  hate  me?     Xay,  I'll  help  you,  sir,  at  that. 

This  only  passion  does  your  soul  inspire : 

You  wish  to  scorn  me.     Well,  you  shall  admire. 

'Tis  not  enough  my  neighbors  that  yon  school 

In  the  belief  that  I'm  a  rogue  or  fool; 

That  small  advantage  you  would  gladly  trade 


56  BLACK  BEETLES  IN  AMBER 

For  what  one  moment  would  yourself  persuade. 

Write,  then,  your  largest  and  your  longest  lie  : 

You  sha'n't  believe  it,  howsoe'er  you  try. 

No  falsehood  you  can  tell,  no  evil  do, 

Shall  turn  me  from  the  truth  to  injure  you. 

So  all  your  war  is  barren  of  effect; 

I  find  my  victory  in  your  respect. 

What  profit  have  you  if  the  world  you  set 

Against  me  ?     For  the  world  will  soon  forget 

It  thought  me  this  or  that  ;   but  I'll  retain 

A  vivid  picture  of  your  moral  stain, 

And  cherish  till  1113-  memory  expire 

The  sweet,  soft  consciousness  that  you're  a  liar 

Is  it  your  triumph,  then,  to  prove  that  you 

Will  do  the  thing  that  I  would  scorn  to  do  ? 

God  grant  that  I  forever  be  exempt 

From  such  advantage  as  my  foe's  contempt. 


"PHIL"   CRIMMINS 

Still  as  he  climbed  into  the  public  view 

His  charms  of  person  more  apparent  grew, 

Till  the  pleased  world  that  watched  his  airy  grace 

Saw  nothing  of  him  but  his  nether  lace — 

Forgot  his  follies  with  his  head's  retreat, 

And  blessed  his  virtues  as  it  viewed  their  seat. 


BLACK  BEETLES  IN  AMBER  57 


CODEX    HONORIS 

JACOB  JACOBS,  of  Oakland,  he  swore  : 
"  Dat  Solomon  Martin — I'll  haf  his  gore  !  " 
Solomon  Martin,  of  Oakland,  he  said  : 

"  Of  Shacob  Shacobs  der  bleed  I  vill  shed  !  ' ' 
So  they  met,  with  seconds  and  surgeon  at  call, 
And  fought  with  pistol  and  powder  and — all 
Was  done  in  good  faith, — as  before  I  said, 
They  fought  with  pistol  and  powder  and — shed 
Tears,  O  1113*  friends,  for  each  other  they  marred 
Fighting  with  pistol  and  powder  and — lard  ! 
For  the  lead  had  been  stolen  away,  every  trace, 
And  Christian  hog-product  supplied  its  place. 
Then  the  shade  of  Moses  indignant  arose  : 

'  Quvicker  dan  lighdnings  go  vosh  yer  glose  !  " 
Jacob  Jacobs,  of  Oakland,  they  say, 
Applied  for  a  pension  the  following  day. 
Solomon  Martin,  of  Oakland,  I  hear, 
Will  call  himself  Colonel  for  manv  a  year. 


TO   W.    H.    L.    B. 

Refrain,  dull  orator,  from  speaking  out, 
For  silence  deepens  when  you  raise  the  shout ; 
But  when  you  hold  your  tongue  we  hear,  at  least. 
Your  noise  in  mastering  that  little  beast. 


58  BLACK  BEETLES  IN  AMBER 


EMANCIPATION 

T3KHOLD  !  the  days  of  miracle  at  last 
U     Return — if  ever  they  vvere  truly  past  i 
From  sinful  creditors'  unhoty  greed 
The  church  called  Calvary  at  last  is  freed— 
So  called  for  there  the  Savior's  crucified, 
Roberts  and  Carmany  on  either  side. 

The  circling  contribution-box  no  more 

Provokes  the  nod  and  simulated  snore ; 

No  more  the  Lottery,  no  more  the  Fair, 

Lure  the  reluctant  dollar  from  its  lair, 

Nor  Ladies'  Lunches  at  a  bit  a  bite 

Destroy  the  health  yet  spate  the  appetite, 

While  thrifty  sisters  o'er  the  cauldron  stoop 

To  serve  their  God  with  zeal,  their  friends  with  soup, 

And  all  the  brethren  mendicate  the  earth 

With  viewless  placards:  "  We've  been  so  from  birth  r> 

Sure  of  his  wage,  the  pastor  now  can  lend 
His  whole  attention  to  his  latter  end, 
Remarking  with  amartyr's  prescient  thrill 
The  Hemp  maturing  on  the  cheerless  Hill. 
The  holy  brethren,  lifting  pious  palms, 
Pour  out  their  gratitude  in  prayer  and  psalms, 
Chant  De  Profundis,  meaning   "  out  of  debt," 
And  dance  like  mad — or  would  if  they  were  let. 


BLACK  BEETLES  IN  AMBER  59 

Deeply  disguised  (a  deacon  newly  dead 
Supplied  the  means)  Jack  Satan  holds  his  head 
As  high  as  any  and  as  loudly  sings 
^vs  jubilate  till  each  rafter  rings. 
Rejoice,  ye  ever  faithful,"   bellows  he, 
The  debt  is  lifted  and  the  temple  free  !  " 
Then  says,  aside,  with  gentle  cachination  : 
I've  got  a  mortgage  on  the  congregation." 


JOHXDOXKKY 

[There  isn't  a  111:1:1  living  who  docs  not  have  at  least  a  sneak 
ing  reverence  for  a  liorss-shoe. — Evening  Post.'] 

THUS  the  poor  ass  whose  appetite  has  ne'er 
Known  than  the  thistle  any  sweeter  fare 
Thinks  all  the  world  eats  thistles.     Thus  the  clown, 
The  wit  and  Mentor  of  the  country  town, 
Grins  through  the  collar  of  a  horse  and  thinks 
Others  for  pleasure  do  as  he  for  drinks, 
Though  secretly,  because  unwilling  still 
In  public  to  attest  their  lack  of  skill. 
Each  dunce  whose  life  and  mind  all  follies  mar 
Believes  as  he  is  all  men  living  are — 
His  vices  theirs,  their  understandings  his  ; 
Xaught  that  he  knows  not,  all  he  fancies,  is. 
How  odd  that  any  mind  such  stuff  should  boast ! 
How  natural  to  write  it  in  the  Post ! 


60  BLACK  BEETLES  IN  AMBER 


HELL 

friends  who  stood  about  1113-  bed 
-!•      Looked  down  upon  my  face  and  said 
"  God's  will  be  clone — the  fellow's  dead." 

When  from  my  body  I  was  free 
I  straightway  felt  myself,  ah  me  ! 
Sink  downward  to  the  life  to  be. 

Full  twenty  centuries  I  fell, 

And  then  alighted.      "  Here  you  dwell 

For  aye,"  a  Voice  cried — "this  is  Hell  !  " 

A  landscape  la)-  about  1113-  feet, 

Where  trees  were  green  and  flowers  sweet. 

The  climate  was  devoid  of  heat.. 

The  sun  looked  down  with  gentle  beam 
Upon  the  bosom  of  the  stream, 
Nor  saw  I  any  sign  of  steam. 

The  waters  by  the  sky  were  tinged, 
The  hills  writh  light  and  color  fringed. 
Birds  warbled  on  the  wing  unsinged. 

"  Ah,  no,  this  is  not  Hell,"   I  cried  ; 
"  The  preachers  ne'er  so  greatly  lied, 
This  is  Earth's  spirit  glorified  ! 


BLACK  BEETLES  IN  AMBER  61 

Good  souls  do  not  in  Hades  dwell, 

And,  look,  there's  John   P.    Irish!"      "Well," 

The  Voice  said,    "that's  what  makes  it  Hell." 


BY   FALSE    PRETENSES 

JOHN  S.  HITTELL,  whose  sovereign  genius  wields 
The  quill  his  tributary  body  yields  ; 
The  author  of  an  opera — that  is, 
All  but  the  music  and  libretto's  his : 
A  work  renowned,  whose  formidable  name, 
Linked  with  his  own,  repels  the  assault  of  fame 
From  the  high  vantage  of  a  dusty  shelf, 
Secure  from  all  the  world  except  himself  ;— - 
Who  told  the  tale  of  "Culture"  in  a  screed 
That  all  might  understand  if  some  would  read  ;— 
Master  of  poesy  and  lord  of  prose, 
Dowered,  like  a  setter,  with  a  double  nose  ; 
That  one  for  I^rato,  for  Clio  this ; 
He  flushes  both — not  his  fault  if  we  miss; — 
Judge  of  the  painter's  art,  who'll  straight  proclaim 
The  hue  of  any  color  you  can  name, 
And  knows  a  painting  with  a  canvas  back 
Distinguished  from  a  duck  by  the  duck's  quack  ;— 
This  thinker  and  philosopher,  whose  \vork 
Is  famous  from  Commercial  street  to  Turk, 
Has  got  a  fortune  now,  his  talent's  meed. 
A  woman  left  it  him  who  could  not  read, 
And  so  went  down  to  death's  eternal  night 
Sweetly  unconscious  that  the  wretch  could  write. 


62  KLACK  BEETLES  AV  AMJiER 


LUCIFER   OF   THE  TORCH 

O     REVEREND     RAVLIN,   once    with    sounding 
lung 

You  shook  the  bloody  banner  of  your  tongue, 
Urged  all  the  fiery  boycotters  afield 
And  swore  you'd  rather  follow  them  than  yield. 
Alas,  how  brief  the  time,  how  great  the  change  !  — 
Your  dogs  of  war  are  ailing  all  of  mange  ; 
The  loose  leash  dangles  from  your  finger-tips, 
But  the  loud  ' '  havoc  ' '  dies  upon  your  lipSo 
No  spirit  animates  your  feeble  clay — 
You'd  rather  yield  than  even  run  away. 
In  vain  McGlashan  labors  to  inspire 
Your  pallid  nostril  with  his  breath  of  fire  : 
The  light  of  battle's  faded  from  your  face — 
You  keep  the  peace,  John  Chinaman  his  place. 
O  Ravlin,  what  cold  water,  thrown  by  whom 
Upon  the  kindling  Boycott's  ruddy  bloom, 
Has  slaked  your  parching  blood-thirst  and  allayed 
The  flash  and  shimmer  of  your  lingual  blade  ? 
Your  salary — your  salary's  unpaid  ! 

In  the  old  days,  when  Christ  with  scourges  drave 
The  Ravlins  headlong  from  the  Temple's  nave, 
Each  bore  upon  his  pelt  the  mark  divine — 
The  Boycott's  red  authenticating  sign. 


BLACK  BEETLES  IN  AMBER  63 

Birth-marked  forever  in  surviving  hurts, 

Glowing  and  smarting  underneath  their  shirts, 

Successive  Ravlins  have  revenged  their  shame 

By  blowing  every  coal  and  flinging  flame. 

And  you,  the  latest  (may  you  be  the  last!) 

Endorsed  with  that  hereditary,  vast 

And  monstrous  rubric,  would  the  feud  prolong, 

Save  that  cupidity  forbids  the  wrong. 

In  strife  you  preferably  pass  your  days — 

But  brawl  no  moment  longer  than  it  pays. 

By  shouting  when  no  more  3-011  can  incite 

The  clogs  to  put  the  timid  sheep  to  flight 

To  load,  for  yon.  the  brambles  with  their  fleece, 

You  cackle  concord  to  congenial  geese, 

Put  pinches  of  goodwill  upon  their  tails 

And  pluck  them  with  a  touch  that  never  fails. 


THE    "WHIRLIGIG    OF   TIME 

Dr.  Jewell  speaks  of  Balaam 
And  his  vices,  to  assail  'em. 
Ancient  enmities  how  cruel  !  — • 
Balaam  cudgeled  once  a  Jewell. 


64  BLACK  BEETLES  IN  AMBER 


A   RAILROAD   LACKEY 

T)  EN  TRUMAN,  you're  a  genius  and  can  write, 
-*-*    Though  one  would  not  suspect  it  from  your  looks, 
You  lack  that  certain  spareness  which  is  quite 

Distinctive  of  the  persons  who  make  books. 

You  show  the  workmanship  of  Stanford's  cooks 
About  the  region  of  the  appetite, 
Where  geniuses  are  singularly  slight. 
Your  friends  the  Chinamen  are  understood, 
Indeed,  to  speak  of  you  as  "  belly  good.  " 

Still,  you  can  write — spell,  too,  I  understand — 

Though  how  two  such  accomplishments  can  go> 
Like  sentimental  schoolgirls,  hand  in  hand 
Is  more  than  ever  I  can  hope  to  know. 
To  have  one  talent  good  enough  to  show 
Has  always  been  sufficient  to  command 
The  veneration  of  the  brilliant  band 
Of  railroad  scholars,  \vho  themselves,  indeed, 
Although  they  cannot  write,  can  mostly  read. 

There's  Towne  and  Fillmore,  Goodman  and  Steve  Gage, 

Ned  Curtis  of  Napoleonic  face, 
Who  used  to  dash  his  name  on  glory's  page 
"  A.  M."  appended  to  denote  his  place 

Among  the  learned.     Now  the  last  faint  trace 
Of  Nap.  is  all  obliterate  with  age, 
And  Ned's  degree  less  precious  than  his  wage. 


L'LACK  BEETLES  IN  AMBER  65 

He  says  :    "I  done  it,"  with  his  every  breath. 
"  Thou  canst  not  say  I  did  it,"  says  Macbeth. 

Good  land  !  how  I  run  on  !     I  quite  forgot 
Whom  this  was  meant  to  be  about ;  for  when 

I  think  upon  that  odd,  unearthly  lot — 

Not  quite  Creedhaymonds,  yet  not  wholly  men— 
I'm  dominated  by  my  rebel  pen 

That,  like  the  stubborn  bird  from  wrhich  'twas  got, 

Goes  waddling  forward  if  I  will  or  not. 

To  leave  your  comrades,  Ben,  I'm  now  content  : 

I'll  meet  them  later  if  I  don't  repent. 

You've  writ  a  letter,  I  observe — nay,  more, 

You've  published  it — to  say  how  good  you  think 

The  coolies,  and  invite  them  to  come  o'er 
In  thicker  quantity.      Perhaps  you  drink 

Xo  corporation's  wine,  but  love  its  ink  ; 

Or  when  you  signed  away  your  soul  and  swore 

On  railrogue  battle-fields  to  shed  your  gore 

You  mentally  reserved  the  right  to  shed 

The  raiment  of  your  character  instead. 

You're  naked,  anyhow  :  unragged  you  stand 
In  frank  and  stark  simplicity  of  shame. 

And  here  upon  your  flank,  in  letters  grand, 

The  iron  has  marked  you  with  your  owner's  name 
Xeedless,  for  none  would  steal  and  none  reclaim. 
But  "  Belaud  Stanford  "  is  a  pretty  brand, 

Wrought  by  an  artist  with  a  cunning  hand 

But  come — this  naked  unreserve  is  flat : 

Don  your  habiliment — you're  fat,  you're  fat  ! 


66  BLACK  BEETLES  IN  AMBER 


THE  LEGATEE 

IN  fair  San  Francisco  a  good  man  did  dwell, 
And  he  wrote  out  a  will,  for  he  didn't  feel  weL, 
Said  he  :    "  It  is  proper,  when  making  a  gift, 
To  stimulate  virtue  by  comforting  thrift." 

So  he  left  all  his  property,  legal  and  straight, 
To  "the  cursedest  rascal  in  all  of  the  State." 
But  the  name  he  refused  to  insert,  for,  said  he  ; 
"Let  each  man  consider  himself  legatee." 

In  due  course  of  time  that  philanthropist  died, 
And  all  San  Francisco,  and  Oakland  beside — 
Save  only  the  lawyers — came  each  with  his  claim 
The  lawyers  preferring  to  manage  the  same. 

The  cases  were  tried  in  Department  Thirteen, 
Judge  Murphy  presided,  sedate  and  serene, 
But  couldn't  quite  specify,  legal  and  straight, 
The  cursedest  rascal  in  all  of  the  State. 

And  so  he  remarked  to  them,  little  and  big — 

To  claimants:    "You  skip!"   and  to  lawyers  ;    "You 

dig!" 

They  tumbled,  tumultuous,  out  of  his  court 
And  left  him  victorious,  holding  the  fort. 


JJL  A  CK  BEE  TL  ES  IN  A  MBER  67 

'Tvvas  then  that  he  said  :    "  It  is  plain  to  my  mind 

This  property's  ownerless — how  can  I  find 

The  curseclest  rascal  in  all  of  the  State  ?  " 

So  he  took  it  himself,  which  was  legal  and  straight. 


"DIED  OF  A  ROSE  " 

A     REPORTER  he  was,  and  he  wrote,  wrote  he  : 
J~^~     ( l  The  grave  was  covered  as  thick  as  could  be 

With  floral  tributes  ' ' — which  reading, 
The  editor  man  he  said,  he  did  so  : 
"  For  'floral  tributes'  he's  got  for  to  go, 

For  I  hold  the  same  misleading." 
Then  he  called  him  in  and  he  pointed  sweet 
To  a  blooming  garden  across  the  street, 

Inquiring  :    "  What's  them  a-growing  ? ' ' 
The  reporter  chap  said  :    "  Why,  where's  your  eyes  ? 
Them's  floral  tributes  !  "      "Arise,  arise/' 

The  editor  said,  "  and  be  going." 


A   LITERARY    HANGMAN 

Beneath  his  coat  of  dirt  great  Xeilson  loves 

To  hide  the  avenging  rope. 
He  handles  all  he  touches  without  gloves. 

Excepting  soap. 


68  BLACK  BEETLES  IX  AMBER 


AT   THK    ELEVENTH    HOUR 

AS  through  the  blue  expanse  lie  skims 
^-"^     On  joyous  wings,  the  late 
Frank  Hutchings  overtakes  Miss  Sims, 
Both  bound  for  Heaven's  liisrh  trate. 


--• 


In  life  they  loved  and  (God  knows  why 

A  lover  so  should  sue) 
He  slew  her,  on  the  gallows  high 

Died  pious — and  they  flew. 

Her  pinions  were  bedraggled,  soiled 

And  torn  as  by  a  gale, 
While  his  were  bright — all  freshly  oiled 

The  feathers  of  his  tail. 

Her  visage,  too,  was  stained  and  worn 

And  menacing  and  grim  ; 
His  sweet  and  mild — you  would  have  sworn 

That  she  had  murdered  him. 

When  they'd  arrived  before  the  gate 

He  said  to  her  :  ' '  My  dear, 
'Tis  hard  once  more  to  separate, 

Rut  you  can't  enter  here. 


BLACK  BEETLES  IN  AMBER  69 

For  you,  unluckily,  were  sent 

So  quickly  to  the  grave 
You  had  no  notice  to  repent, 

Xor  time  your  soul  to  save." 

'Tis  true,"  said  she,  "and  I  should  wail 

In  Hell  even  now,  but  I 
Have  lingered  round  the  county  jail 

To  see  a  Christian  die." 


A    CONTROVERSIALIST 

T'Y.Iv  sometimes  wished  that  Ingersoll  were  wise 
*-     To  hold  his  tongue,  nor  rail  against  the  skies  ; 

For  when  he's  made  a  point  some  pious  dunce 
Like  Bartlett  of  the  Bulletin  "replies." 

I  brandish  110  iconoclastic  fist, 
Xor  enter  the  debate  an  atheist  ; 

But  when  they  say  there  is  a  God  I  ask 
Yvrhy  Bartlett,  then,  is  suffered  to  exist. 

Even  infidels  that  logic  might  resent, 

Sa}-ing  :    "  There's  no  place  for  his  punishment 

That's  worse  than  earth."     But  humbly  I  submit 
That  he  would  make  a  hell  wherever  sent. 


70  BLACK  BEETLES  IN  AJMDER 


MENDAX 

HIGH  Lord  of  Liars,  Pickering,  to  thee 
Let  meaner  mortals  bend  the  subject  knee 
Thine  is  mendacity's  imperial  crown, 
Alike  by  genius,  action  and  renown. 
Xo  man,  since  words  could  set  a  cheek  aflame 
E'er  lied  so  greatly  with  so  little  shame  ! 
O  bad  old  man,  must  thy  remaining  years 
Be  passed  in  leading  idiots  by  their  ears — 
Thine  own  (which  Justice,  if  she  ruled  the  roast 
Would  fasten  to  the  penitential  post) 
Still  wagging  sympathetically — hung 
On  the  same  rocking-bar  that  bears  thy  tongue  ? 

Thou  dog  of  darkness,  dost  thou  hope  to  stay 
Time's  dread  advance  till  thou  hast  had  thy  day  r 
Dost  think  the  Strangler  will  release  his  hold 
Because,  forsooth,  some  fibs  remain  untold  ? 
No,  no — beneath  thy  multiplying  load 
Of  years  thou  canst  not  tarry  on  the  road 
To  dabble  in  the  blood  thy  leaden  feet 
Have  pressed  from  bosoms  that  have  ceased  to  best 
Of  reputations  margining  thy  way, 
Xor  wander  from  the  path  new  truth  to  slay, 
Tell  to  thyself  whatever  lies  thou  wilt, 
Catch  as  thou  canst  at  pennies  got  by  guilt- 
Straight  down  to  death  this  blessed  year  thou' It  sink 
Thy  life  washed  out  as  with  a  wave  of  ink. 


BLACK  BEETLES  IN  AMBER  71 

But  if  this  prophecy  be  not  fulfilled, 

And  thou  who  killest  patience  be  not  killed; 

If  age  assail  in  vain  and  vice  attack 

Only  by  folly  to  be  beaten  back  ; 

Yet  Nature  can  this  consolation  give : 

The  rogues  who  die  not  are  condemned  to  live  i 


THK   RETROSPECTIVE   BIRD 

HIS  caw  is  a  cackle,  his  eye  is  dim, 
And  he  mopes  all  day  on  the  lowest  limb  ; 
Not  a  word  says  he,  but  he  snaps  his  bill 
And  twitches  his  palsied  head,  as  a  quill, 
The  ultimate  plume  of  his  pride  and  hope, 
Quits  his  now  featherless  nose-of-the-Pope, 
Leaving  that  eminence  brown  and  bare 
Exposed  to  the  Prince  of  the  Power  of  the  Air. 
And  he  sits  and  he  thinks  :     "  I'm  an  old,  old  man, 
Mateleses  and  chickless,  the  last  of  my  clan, 
But  I'd  give  the  half  of  the  days  gone  by 
To  perch  once  more  on  the  branches  high, 
And  hear  my  great-grand-daddy' s  comical  croaks 
In  authorized  versions  of  Bulletin  jokes." 


&LACK  BEETLES  IN  AlU 


THE    OAKLAND    DOG 

T     LAY  one  happ\-  night  in  bed 
^     And  dreamed  that  all  the  dogs  were  dead. 
They'd  all  been  taken  out  and  shot — 
Their  bodies  strewed  each  vacant  lot. 

O'er  all  the  earth,  from  Berkeley  down 
To  San  Leandro's  ancient  town, 
And  out  in  space  as  far  as  Xiles — 
I  saw  their  mortal  parts  in  piles. 

One  stack  upreared  its  ridge  so  high 
Against  the  azure  of  the  sky 
That  some  good  soul,  with  pious  views, 
Put  up  a  steeple  and  sold  pews. 

Xo  wagging  tail  the  scene  relieved  : 
I  never  in  my  life  conceived 
( I  swear  it  on  the  Decalogue  !  ) 
Such  penury  of  living  dog. 

The  barking  and  the  howling  stilled, 
The  snarling  with  the  snarler  killed, 
All  nature  seemed  to  hold  its  breath  : 
The  silence  was  as  deep  as  death. 


BLACK  BEETLES  IN  AMBER 

True,  candidates  were  all  in  roar 
On  every  p'atforrn,  as  before  ; 
And  villains,  as  before,  felt  free 
To  finger  the  calliope. 

True,  the  Salvationist  by  night, 
And  milkman  in  the  early  light, 
The  lonely  flutist  and  the  mil] 
Performed  their  functions  with  a  \vill. 

True,  church  bells  on  a  Sunday  rang 
The  sick  man's  curtain  down — the  bang 
Of  trains,  contesting  for  the  track, 
Out  of  the  shadow  called  him  back. 

True,  cocks,  at  all  unheavenly  hours, 
Crew  with  excruciating  powers, 
Cats  on  the  woodshed  rang  and  roared, 
Fat  citizens  and  fog-horns  snored. 

But  this  was  all  too  fine  for  ears 
Accustomed,  through  the  awful  years, 
To  the  nocturnal  monologues 
And  day  debates  of  Oakland  dogs. 

And  so  the  world  was  silent.     Now 
What  else  befell — to  whom  and  how  ? 
Imprimis )  then,  there  were  no  fleas, 
And  days  of  worth  brought  nights  of  ens; 

Men  walked  about  without  the  dread 
Of  being  torn  to  many  a  shred, 
Eacli  fragment  holding  half  a  cruse 
Of  hydrophobia's  quickening  juice. 


74  BLACK  BEETLES  IN  AMBER 

They  had  not  to  propitiate 
Some  curst  kioodle  at  each  gate, 
But  entered  one  another's  grounds, 
Unscared,  and  were  not  fed  to  hounds. 

Women  could  drive  and  not  a  pup 
Would  lift  the  horse's  tendons  up 
And  let  them  go — to  interject 
A  certain  musical  effect. 

Even  children's  ponies  went  about, 
All  grave  and  sober-paced,  without 
A  bulldog  hanging  to  each  nose — 
Proud  of  his  fragrance,  I  suppose. 

Dog  being  dead,  Man's  lawless  flame 
Burned  out  :  he  granted  Woman's  claim, 
Children's  and  those  of  country,  art— 
They  all  took  lodgings  in  his  heart. 

When  memories  of  his  former  shame 
Crimsoned  his  cheeks  with  sudden  flame 
He  said  ;    "I  know  my  fault  too  well— 
They  fawned  upon  me  and  I  fell." 

Ah  !  'twas  a  lovely  world! — no  more 
I  met  that  indisposing  bore, 
The  unseraphic  cynogogue — 
The  man  who's  proud  to  love  a  dog. 

Thus  in  my  dream  the  golden  reign 
Of  Reason  filled  the  world  again, 
And  all  mankind  confessed  her  sway, 
From  Walnut  Creek  to  San  Jose. 


BLACK  BEETLES  IN  AMBER 


THE   UNFALLEN    BRAVE 

NOT  all  in  sorrow  and  in  tears, 
To  pay  of  gratitude's  arrears 

The  yearly  sum — 
Xot  prompted  wholly  by  the  pride 
Of  those  for  whom  their  friends  have  died, 
To-day  we  come. 

Another  aim  we  have  in  view 
Than  for  the  buried  boys  in  blue 

To  drop  a  tear : 

Memorial  Day  revives  the  chin 
Of  Barnes,  and  Salomon  chimes  in— 

That's  why  we're  here. 

And  when  in  after-ages  the}' 
Shall  pass,  like  mortal  men,  away, 

Their  war-song  sung, 
Then  fame  will  tell  the  tale  anew 
Of  how  intrepidly  they  drew 

The  deadly  tongue. 

Then  cull  white  lilies  for  the  graves 
Of  Liberty's  loquacious  braves, 

And  roses  red. 

Those  represent  their  livers,  these 
The  blood  that  in  unmeasured  seas 

Tliev  did  not  shed. 


76  BLACK  BEETLES  IN  AMBER 

A  CELEBRATED  CASE 

WAY  down  in  the  Boom  Belt  lived  Mrs.  Roselle 
A  person  named  Petrie,  he  lived  there  as  well 
But  Mr.  Roodle  he  resided  away— 
Sing-  toorrd  iooral  iooral  lay. 

Once  Mrs.  Roselle  in  her  room  was  alone  : 
The  flesh  of  her  flesh  and  the  bone  of  her  bone 
Neglected  the  wife  of  his  bosom  to  woo — 
Sing  toorol  iooral  iooral  ioo. 

Then  Petrie,  her  lover,  appeared  at  the  door, 
Remarking  :     ' '  My  dear  ;    I  don't  love  3-011  no  more. 
"  That's  awfully  rough,"  said  the  lady,  "  on  inc- 
Sing  tooral  iooral  iooral  iee." 

"  Come  in,  Mr.  Petrie,"  she  added,    "  p^ay  do  : 
Although  3'ou  don't  love  me  no  more,  I  love  you. 
Sit  down  while  I  spra3r  3-0:1  with  vitriol  now — 
Sing  tooral  iooral  iooral  iow." 

vSaid  Petrie  :    "  That  liquid  I  know-  won't  agree 
With  my  beauty,  and  then  3Tou'll  no  longer  love  me ; 
So  spra3-  and  be  " — O,  what  a  word  ho  did  say  !  — 
Sing  tooral  iooral  iooral  ia3T. 

She  deluged  his  head  and  continued  to  pour 
Till  his  bonny  blue  eyes,  like  his  love,  were  110  more. 
It  was  seldom  he  got  such  a  heart\^  shampoo — 
Sing  tooral  iooral  iooral  ioo 


BLACK  BEETLES  IN  AMBER 

Then.  Petnc  he  rose  and  said  :    "  Mrs.  Resell e, 
1  have  an  engagement  and  bid  you  farewell." 
"  You  see,"  she  began  to  explain — but  not  he!— 
Sing  tooral,  iooral,  iooral  iee. 

The  Sheriff  he  came  and  he  offered  his  arm, 
Saying,  "Sorry  I  am  for  disturbin'  }TOU,  inarm, 
But  business  is  business."   Said   sh?,    "So  they  say 
Sing  tooral,  iooral,  iooral  lay." 

The  Judge  on  the  bench  he  looked  awfully  stern; 
The  District  Attorney  began  to  attorn  ; 
The  witnesses  lied  and  the  lawyers — O  my  ! — 
Sing  tooral,  iooral,  iooral  iyi. 

The  chap  that  defended  her  said  :    "  It's  our  claim 
That  he  loved  us  no  longer  and  told  us  the  same. 
What  else  than  we  did  could  we  decently  do  ? — 
Sing  tooral,  iooral,  iooral  ioo." 

The  District  Attorney,  sarcastic,  replied  : 
's\Ve  loved  you  no  longer— that  can't  be  denied. 
Xot  having  no  eyes  we  may  dote  on  3-011  now — 
Sing  tooral,  iooral,  iooral  low." 

The  prisoner  wept  to  entoken  her  fears  ; 
The  sockets  of  Petrie  wero  flooded  with  tears. 
O  heaven-born  Sympathy,  bully  for  you  ! — 
Sing  tooral,  iooral,  iooral  ioo. 

Four  jurors  considered  the  prisoner  mad, 
And  four  thought  her  victim  uncommonly  bad, 
And  four  that  the  acid  was  all  in  his  eye — 
Sing  rum  tiddy  iddity  iddity  hi. 


78  BLACK  BEETLES  IX  AMBER 


COUPLETS 

Intended    for   Incription    0:1   a    Sword    Presented    to    Colon* 
Cutting  of  the  National  Guard  of  California. 

I  AM  for  Cutting.     I'm  a  blade 
Designed,  for  use  at  dress  parade. 
My  gleaming-  length  v/he:i  I  display 
Peace  rules  the  land  with  gentle  sway  ; 
But  when  the  war-dogs  bare  their  teeth 
Go  seek  me  in  the  modest  sheath. 
T  am  for  Cutting".     Not  for  me 
The  task  of  setting  nations  free. 
Let  soulless  blades  take  human  life, 
My  softer  metal  shuns  the  strife. 
The  annual  review  is  mine, 
When  gorgeous  shopmen  sweat  and  shine, 
And  Biddy,  tip-toe  on  the  pave, 
Adores  the  cobble-trotting  brave. 
I  am  for  Cutting.      'Tis  not  mine 
To  hew  amain  the  hostile  line  ; 
Not  mine  all  pitiless  to  spread 
The  plain  with  tumuli  of  dead. 
My  grander  duty  lies  afar 
From  haunts  of  the  insane  hussar, 
Where  charging  horse  and  struggling  foot 
Are  grimed  alike  with  cannon-soot. 
When  Loveliness  and  Valor  meet 
Beneath  the  trees  to  dance,  and  eat, 
And  sing,  and  much  beside,  behold 


P>L  A  CK  DEE  TL  ES  IN  AMBER  79 

My  golden  glories  all  unfold.! 
There  formidably  are  displayed 
The  useful  horrors  of  my  blade 
I:i  time  offcast  and  dance  and  ballad, 
I  am  for  cutting  chicken  salad. 


A   RETORT 

S  vicious  women  think  all  men  are  knaves, 

And  shrew-bound  gentlemen  discourse  of  slave: 
As  reeling  drunkards  judge  the  world  unsteady 
And  idlers  swear  employers  ne'er  get  ready- 
Thieves  that  the  constable  stole  all  they  had, 
The  mad  that  all  except  themselves  are  mad  ; 
So,  in  another's  clear  escutcheon  shown, 
Barnes  rails  at  stains  reflected  from  his  own; 
Prates  of  "docility,"  nor  feels  the  dark 
Ring  round  his  neck — the  Ralston  collar  mark. 
Back,  man,  to  studies  interrupted  once, 
Kre  yet  the  rogue  had  merged  into  the  dunce  . 
Back,  back  to  Yale  !  and,  grown  with  years  discreet, 
The  course  a  virgin's  lust  cut  short,  complete. 
Go  drink  again  at  the  Pierian  pool, 
And  learn — at  least  to  better  play  the  fool. 
Xo  longer  scorn  the  draught,  although  the  font, 
Unlike  Pactolus,  waters  not  Belmoiit. 


So  BLACK  BEETLES  IN  A 


A    VISTOX    OF   RESURRECTION 

I  HAD  a  dream.     The  habitable  earth — 
Its  continents  and  islands,  all  were  bare 
Of  cities  and  of  forests.      Xaught  remained 
Of  its  old  aspect,  and  I  only  knew 
(As  men  know  things  in  dreams,  unknowing  how) 
That  this  was  earth  and  that  all  men  were  dead. 
On  every  side  I  saw  the  barren  land, 
Even  to  the  distant  sky's  inclosing  blue, 
Thick-pitted  all  with  graves  ;  and  all  the  graves 
Save  one  were  open — not  as  newly  dug, 
But  rather  as  by  some  internal  force 
Riven  for  egress.     Tombs  of  stone  were  split 
And  wide  agape,  and  in  their  iron  decay 
The  massive  mausoleums  stood  in  halves. 
With  mildewed  linen  all  the  ground  was  white, 
Discarded  shrouds  upon  memorial  stones 
Hung  without  motion  in  the  soulless  air. 
While  greatly  marveling  how  this  should  be 
I  heard,  or  fancied  that  I  heard,  a  voice, 
Low  like  an  angel's,  delicately  strong, 
And  sweet  as  music. 

— "  Spirit,"  it  said,  "  behold 
The  burial  place  of  universal  Man  ! 
A  million  years  have  rolled  away  since  here 
His  sheeted  multitudes  (save  onlv  some 


BLACK  BEETLES  IN  AMBER  Si 

Whose  dark  misdeeds  required  a  separate 
And  individual  arraignment)  rose 
To  judgment  at  the  trumpet's  summoning 
And  passed  into  the  sky  for  their  award, 
Leaving  behind  these  perishable  things 
Which  yet,  preserved  by  miracle,  endure 
Till  all  are  up.     Then  they  and  all  of  earth, 
Rock-hearted  mountain  and  storm -breasted  sea, 
River  and  wilderness  and  sites  of  dead 
And  vanished  capitals  of  men,  shall  spring 
To  flame,  and  naught  shall  be  for  evermore  ! 
When  all  are  risen  that  wonder  will  occur. 
'Twas  but  ten  centuries  ago  the  last 
But  one  came  forth — a  soul  so  black  with  sin, 
Against  whose  name  so  many  crimes  were  set 
That  only  now  his  trial  is  at  end. 
But  one  remains." 

Straight,  as  the  voice  was  stilled — 

That  single  rounded  mound  cracked  lengthliwise 

And  one  came  forth  in  grave-clothes.     For  a  space 

He  stood  and  gazed  about  him  with  a  smile 

Superior  ;  then  laying  off  his  shroud 

Disclosed  his  two  attenuated  legs 

Which,  like  parentheses,  bent  outwardly 

As  by  the  weight  of  saintliness  above, 

And  so' sprang  upward  and  was  lost  to  view 

Noting  his  headstone  overthrown,  I  read  : 

"Sacred  to  memory  of  George  K.  Fitch, 

Deacon  and  Editor — a  holy  man 

Who  fell  asleep  in  Jesus,  full  of  years 

And  blessedness.     The  dead  in  Christ  rise  first." 


82  BLACK  BEETLES  IN  AMBER 


MASTER   OF    THREE   ARTS 


various  talents,  Goldenson,  command 
JL     Respect:  you  are  a  poet  and  can  draw. 
It  is  a  pity  that  your  gifted  hand 

Should  ever  have  been  raised  against  the  law. 
If  you  had  drawn  no  pistol,  but  a  picture, 
You  would  have  saved  vour  throttle  from  a  stricture. 


About  your  poetry  I'm  not  so  sure  : 

'Tis  certain  we  have  much  that's  quite  as  bad.. 

Whose  hardy  writers  have  not  to  endure 

The  hangman's  fondling.     It  is  said  they're  mad  : 

Though  lately  Mr.  Brooks  (I  mean  the  poet) 

Looked  well,  and  if  demented  didn't  show  it. 

Well,  Goldenson,  I  am  a  poet,  too — 

Taught  by  the  muses  how  to  smite  the  harp 

And  lift  the  tuneful  voice,  although,  like  you 

And  Brooks,  I  sometimes  flat  and  sometimes  sharp, 

But  let  me  say,  with  no  desire  to  taunt  you, 

I  never  murder  even  the  girls  I  want  to. 

I  hold  it  one  of  the  poetic  laws 

To  sing  of  life,  not  take.     I've  ever  shown 
A  high  regard  for  human  life  because 

I  have  such  trouble  to  support  my  own. 
And  you — well,  you'll  find  trouble  soon  in  blowing 
Your  private  coal  to  keep  it  red  and  glowing. 


BL  A  CK  BEE  77  ES  IN  AMBE K  83 

now  I  see  3*011  at  the  Gate 
Approach  St.  Peter,  crawling  on  your  belly, 
Yon  cry  :  "Good  sir,  take  pity  on  my  state — 

Forgive  the  murderer  of  Mamie  Kelly  !  " 
And  Peter  says  :  "  O,  that's  all  right — but,  mister, 
Yon   scribbled    rhjrmes.       In    Hell    I'll    make    you 
blister  ! ' ' 


THKRSITES 

,  in  the  Sunday  papers youy  Del  Mar, 
^     Damn  all  great  Englishmen  in  English  .speech  ? 

I  am  no  Englishman,  but  in  my  reach 
A  rogue  shall  never  rail  where  heroes  arc. 

You  are  the  man,  if  I  mistake  you  not, 
Who  lately  with  a  supplicating  twitch 
Plucked  at  the  pockets  of  the  I^ondon  rich 

And  paid  your  share-engraver  all  you  got. 

Because  that  you  have  greatly  iied,  because 
You  libel  nations,  and  because  no  hand 
Of  officer  is  raised  to  bid  you  stand, 

And  falsehood  is  unpunished  of  the  laws, 

I  stand  here  in  a  public  place  to  mark 

With  level  finger  where  you  part  the  crowd — 
I  stand  to  name  you  and  to  cr)^  aloud  : 

Behold  mendacity's  great  hierarch  !  " 


84  BLACK  BEETLES  IN  AMBER 


A  SOCIETY  LEADER 

^HE  Social  World  "  !     O  what  a  world  it  is— 
Where  full-grown  men  cut  capers  in  the  German, 
Cotillion,  waltz,  or  what  you  will,  and  whizz 

And  spin  and  hop  and  sprawl  about  like  mermen  ! 
I  wonder  if  our  future  Grant  or  Sherman, 
As  these  youths  pass  their  time,  is  passing  his — 
If  eagles  ever  come  from  painted  eggs, 
Or  deeds  of  arms  succeed  to  deeds  of  legs. 

I  know  they  tell  us  about  Waterloo  : 

How,    ''foremost  fighting,"    fell     the  evening's 
dancers. 

I  don't  believe  it :   I  regard  it  true 

That  soldiers  who  are  skillful  in  "  the  Lancers  " 
Less  often  die  of  cannon  than  of  cancers. 

Moreover,  I  am  half-persuaded,  too, 

That  David  when  he  danced  before  the  Ark 
Had  the  reporter's  word  to  keep  it  dark. 

Ed.  Greenway,  you  fatigue.     Your  hateful  name 
Like  maiden's  curls,  is  in  the  papers  daily. 

You  think  it,  doubtless,  honorable  fame, 

And  contemplate  the  cheap  distinction  gaily, 
As  does  the  monkey  the  blue-painted  tail  he 

Believes  becoming  to  him.      'Tis  the  same 
With  men  as  other  monkeys  :  all  their  souls 
Crave  eminence  on  any  kind  of  poles. 


BLACK  BEETLES  IX  AMBER  S5 

But  cynics  (barking  tribe  !)  are  all  agreed 
That  monkeys  upon  poles  performing  capers 

Are  not  exalted,  they  are  only  "treed." 
A  glory  that  is  kindled  by  the  papers 
Is  transient  as  the  phosphorescent  vapors 

That  shine  in  graveyards  and  are  seen,  indeed, 
But  while  the  bodies  that  supply  the  gas 
Are  turning  into  weeds  to  feed  an  ass. 

One  can  but  wonder  sometimes  how  it  feels 
To  be  an  ass — a  beast  we  beat  condignly 

Because,  like  yours,  his  life  is  in  his  heels 
And  he  is  prone  to  use  them  unbcnignly. 
The  ladies  (bless  them  !  )  say  you  dance  divinely. 

I  like  St.  Vitus  better,  though,  who  deals 
His  feet  about  him  with  a  grace  more  just, 
And  hops,  not  for  he  will,  but  for  he  must. 

Doubtless  it  gratifies  3*011  to  observe 

Blbovi'3*  girls  and  adipose  mamas 
All  looking  adoration  as  you  swerve 

This  way  and  that  ;  but  prosperous  papas 

Laugh  in  their  sleeves  at  3*011,  and  their  ha-has, 
If  heard,  would  somewhat  agitate  your  nerve. 

And  daines  and    maids  who  keep  you    on  their 
shelves 

Don't  seem  to  want  a  closer  tie  themselves. 

Gods  !  what  a  life  3*011  live  ! — by  da3r  a  slave 
To  your  exacting  back  and  urgent  belty  ; 

Intent  to  earn  and  vigilant  to  save — 

By  night,  attired  so  sightty  and  so  smelly, 


86  BLACK  BEETLES  7.V  AMBER 

With  countenance  as  luminous  as  jelly, 
Bobbing  and  bowing  !     King  of  hearts  and  knave 
Of  diamonds,  I'd  bet  a  silver  brick 
If  brains  were  trumps  you'd  never  take  a  trick. 


EXPOSITOR  VERITATIS 

SLEPT,  and,  waking  in  the  years  to  be, 
Heard  voices,  and;approaching  whence  they  came, 
Listened  indifferently  where  a  key 

Had  lately  been  removed.     An  ancient  dame 
Said  to  her  daughter  :  "  Go  to  yonder  caddy 
And  get  some  emery  to  scour  your  daddy." 

And  then  I  knew — some  intuition  said — 

That   tombs    were   not  and  men  had  cleared  their 
shelves 

Of  urns;  and  the  electro-plated  dead 

Stood  pedestaled  as  statues  of  themselves. 

With  famous  dead  men  all  the  public  places 

Were  thronged,  and  some  in  piles  awaited  bases. 

One  mighty  structure's  high  facade  alone 

Contained  a  single  monumental  niche, 

Where,  central  in  that  staep  expanse  cf  stone, 

Gleamed  the  familiar  form  of  Thomas  Fitch. 

A  man  cried  :  "  L,o  !  Truth's  temple  and  its  founder  !  " 

Then  gravely  added  :  "I'm  her  chief  expounder." 


BLACK  BEETLES  IN  AMBER  87 


TO    "COLONEL"    DAN.    BURNS 

>HpHEY  say,  my  lord,  that  you're  a  Warwick.  Well, 
-^      The  title's  an  absurd  one,  I  believe  : 

You  make  no  kings,  you  have  no  kings  to  sell, 
Though  really  'twere  easy  to  conceive 
You  stuffing  half-a-dozen  up  your  sleeve. 

No,  you're  no  Warwick,  skillful  from  the  shell 

To  hatch  out  sovereigns.     On  a  mare's  nest,   maybe, 

You'd  incubate  a  little  jackass  baby. 

I  fancy,  too,  that  it  is  naught  but  stuff, 

This  ' '  power ' '  that  you're  said  to  be  * '  behind 
The  throne.  "     I'm  sure  'twere  accurate  enough 
To  represent  3^011  simply  as  inclined 
To  push  poor  Markham  (ailing  in  his  mind 
And  body,  which  were  never  very  tough) 
Round  in  an  invalid's  wheeled  chain     Such  menial 
Employment  to  low  natures  is  congenial. 

No,  Dan,  you're  an  impostor  every  way  : 

A  human  bubble,  for  "the  earth,"  you  know, 
"  Hath  bubbles,  as  the  water  hath.' '     Some  day 
Some  careless  hand  will  prick  your  film,  and  O, 
How  utterly  you'll  vanish  !    Daniel,  throw 
(As  fallen  Woolsey  might  to  Cromwell  say) 
Your  curst  ambition  to  the  pigs — though  truly 
'Twould  make  them  greater  pigs,  and  more  unruly. 


S3  BLACK  BEETLES  IN  AMBER 


GEORGE    A.    KNIGHT 

A  TTORNEY  KNIGHT,  it  happens  so  sometimes 
-^"^     That  lawyers,  justifying  cut-throats'  crimes 
For  hire — calumniating,  too,  for  gold, 
The  dead,  dumb  victims  cruelly  unsouled — 
Speak,  through  the  press,  to  a  tribunal  far 
More  honorable  than  their  Honors  are, — 
A  court  that  sits  not  with  assenting  smile 
While  living  rogues  dead  gentleman  revile, — 
A  court  where  scoundrel  ethics  of  your  trade 
Confuse  110  judgment  and  no  cheating  aid, — 
The  Court  of  Honest  Souls,  where  you  in  vain 
May  plead  your  right  to  falsify  for  gain, 
Sternly  reminded  if  a  man  engage 
To  serve  assassins  for  the  liar's  wage, 
His  mouth  with  vilifying  falsehoods  crammed, 
He's  twice  detestable  and  doubly  damned  ! 

Attorney  Knight,  defending  Powell,  you, 

To  earn  your  fee,  so  energetic  grew 

(So  like  a  hound,  the  pride  of  all  the  pack, 

Clapping  your  nose  upon  the  dead  man 's  track 

To  run  his  faults  to  earth — at  least  proclaim 

At  vacant  holes  the  overtaken  game) 

That  men  who  marked  you  nourishing  the  tongue, 

And  saw  your  arms  so  vigorously  swung, 


BLACK  BEETLES  IN  AMBER  89 

All  marveled  how  so  light  a  breeze  could  stir 
So  great  a  windmill  to  so  great  a  whirr  ! 
Little  they  knew,  or  surely  they  had  grinned, 
The  mill  was  laboring  to  raise  the  wind. 

Ralph  Smith  a  ''shoulder-striker"!      God,  O  hear 
This  hardy  man's  description  of  thy  dear 
Dead  child,  the  gentlest  soul,  save  only  One, 
E'er  born  in  any  land  beneath  the  sun. 
All  silent  benefactions  still  he  wrought : 
High  deed  and  gracious  speech  and  noble  thought, 
Kept  all  thy  law,  and,  seeking  still  the  right, 
Upon  his  blameless  breast  received  the  light. 

:'  Avenge,   O  Lord,  thy  slaughtered  saints,"  he  cried 
Whose  wrath  was  deep  as  his  comparison  wide- — • 
Milton,  thy  servant.     Nay,  thy  will  be  done  : 
To  smite  or  spare — to  me  it  all  is  one. 
Can  vengeance  bring  my  sorrow  to  an  end, 
Or  justice  give  me  back  my  buried  friend  ? 
But  if  some  Milton  vainly  now  implore, 
And  Powell  prosper  as  he  did  before, 
Yet  'twere  too  much  that,  making  no  ado, 
Thy  saints  be  slaughtered  and  be  slandered  too. 
So,  Lord,  make  Knight  his  weapon  keep  in  sheath, 
Or  do  Thou  wrest  it  from  between  his  teeth  ! 


90  BLACK  BEETLES  IX  AMBER 


UNARMED 

OAINT  Peter  sat  at  the  jasper  gate, 

^     When  Stephen  M.  White  arrived  in  state, 

"  Admit  me."      "  With  pleasure,"  Peter  said,. 
Pleased  to  observe  that  the  man  was  dead ; 

"  That's  what  I'm  here  for.     Kindly  show 
Your  ticket,  my  lord,  and  in  you  go." 

White  stared  in  blank  surprise.     Said  he  : 
"  I  run  this  place — just  turn  that  key." 

' '  Yes  ?  ' '  said  the  Saint ;  and  Stephen  heard 
With  pain  the  inflection  of  that  word. 

But,  mastering  his  emotion,  he 

Remarked:  "  My  friend,  you're  too  d — —  free 

"I'm  Stephen  M.,  by  thunder,  White  !  " 
And,  "  Yes?"  the  guardian  said,  with  quite 

The  self-same  irritating  stress 
Distinguishing  his  former  yes. 

And  still  demurely  as  a  mouse 

He  twirled  the  key  to  that  Upper  House. 


BLACK  BEETLES  IN  AMBER  91 

Then  Stephen,  seeing  his  bluster  vain 
Admittance  to  those  halls  to  gain, 

Said,  neighborly:   "  Pray  tell  me,  Pete, 
Does  any  one  contest  my  seat  ?  ' ' 

The  Saint  replied  :    ' '  Nay,  nay,  not  so  ; 
But  you  voted  always  wrong  below7  : 

11  Whate'er  the  question,  clear  and  high 
You're  voice  rang:  '/,'  '/, '  ever  '/.' 

Xow  indignation  fired  the  heart 
Of  that  insulted  immortal  part. 

"  Die,  wretch  !  "  he  cried,  with  blanching  lip. 
And  made  a  motion  to  his  hip, 

With  purpose  murderous  and  hearty, 
To  draw  the  Democratic  party  ! 

He  felt  his  fingers  vainly  slide 
Upon  his  unappareled  hide 

(The  dead  arise  from  their  "  silent  tents  r: 
But  not  their  late  habiliments) 

Then  wailed — -the  briefest  of  his  speeches  : 
"  I've  left  it  in  my  other  breeches  !  " 


92  BLACK  BEETLES  IX  AMBER 


A   POLITICAL  VIOLET 


,  Stanford,  let  us  sit  at  ease 
And  talk  as  old  friends  do. 
You  talk  of  anything  you  please, 
And  I  will  talk  of  you. 

You  recently  have  said,  I  hear, 

That  you  would  like  to  go 
To  serve  as  Senator.     That's  queer  ! 

Have  you  told  William  Stow  ? 

Once  when  the  Legislature  said  : 
"  Go,  Stanford,  and  be  great  !  " 
You  lifted  up  your  Jovian  head 
And  everlooked  the  State. 

As  one  made  leisurely  awake, 

You  lightly  rubbed  3*our  eyes 
And  answered  :     "  Thank  you  —  please  to  make 

A  note  of  my  surprise. 

But  who  are  they  who  skulk  aside, 

As  to  get  out  of  reach, 
And  in  their  clothing  strive  to  hide 

Three  thousand  dollars  each  ? 


BLACK  BEETLES  IN  AMBER  93 

'  Xot  members  of  your  body,  sure  ? 

No,  that  can  hardly  be  : 
All  statesmen,  I  suppose,  are  pure. 

What  !  there  are  rogues?     Dear  me  1  " 

You  added,  you'll  recall,  that  though 

You  were  surprised  and  pained, 
You  thought,  upon  the  whole,  you'd  go? 

And  in  that  mind  remained. 

Xow,  what  so  great  a  change  has  wrought 

That  you  so  fratikty  speak 
Of  "  seeking  "  honors  once  unsought 

Because  you   "  scorned  to  seek  "  ? 

Do  you  not  fear  the  grave  reproof 

In  good  Creed  Hayinond's  eye? 
Will  Stephen  Gage  not  stand  aloof 

And  pass  you  coldly  by? 

O,  fear  you  not  that  Yrooman's  lich 

Will  rise  from  earth  and  point 
At  you  a  scornful  finger  which 

May  lack,  perchance,  a  joint? 

Go,  Stanford,  where  the  violets  grow, 

And  join  their  modest  train. 
Await  the  work  of  William  Stow 

And  be  surprised  again. 


94  BLACK  BEETLES  IN  AMBER 


THE    SUBDUED    EDITOR 

T)OPE-CHOKER  Pixley  sat  in  his  den 
-**      A-chewin'  upon  his  quid. 
He  thought  it  was  Leo  Thirteen,  and  then 
He  bit  it  intenser,  he  did. 

The  amber  which  overflew  from  the  cud 

Like  rivers  which  burst  out  of  bounds — 

'Twas  peculiar  grateful  to  think  it  blood 
A-gushin'  from  Papal  wounds. 

A  knockin'  was  heard  upon  to  the  door 

Where  some  one  a-waitin'  was. 
"Come  in,"  said  the  shedder  of  priestly  gore, 

Arrestin'  to  once  his  jaws. 

The  person  which  entered  was  curly  of  hair 

And  smilin'  as  ever  you  see  ; 
His  eyes  was  blue,  and  uncommon  fair 

Was  his  physiognomee. 

And  yet  there  was  some' at  remarkable  grand — 

And  the  editor  says  as  he  looks  : 
"  Your  Height"  (it  was  Highness,  you  understand, 

That  he  meant,  but  he  spoke  like  books) — 

"  Your  Height,  I  am  in.     I'm  the  editor  man 

Of  this  paper — which  is  to  say, 
I'm  the  owner,  too,  and  it's  alway  ran 

In  the  independentest  way  ! 


BLACK  BEETLES  IN  AMBER 

"  Xot  a  damgaloot  can  interfere, 

A-shapin'  my  course  for  me  : 
This  paper's  (and  nothing  can  make  it  veer) 

Pixleian  in  policee  ! ' ' 

"  It's  little  to  me,"  said  the  sunny  youth, 

"  If  journals  is  better  or  worse  • 
Where  I  am  to  home  they  won't  keep,  in  truth, 

The  climate  is  that  perverse. 

ic  I've  come,  howsomever,  your  mind  to  light 

With  a  more  superior  fire  : 
You'll  have  naught  hencefor'ard  to  do  but  write, 

While  I  sets  by  and  inspire. 

"  We'll  make  it  hot  all  round,  bedad  !  " 

And  his  laughture  was  loud  and  free, 
"  The  devil !  "  cried  Pixley,  surpassin'  mad. 
"  Exactly,  my  friend — that's  me." 

So  he  took  a  chair  and  a  feather  fan, 

And  he  sets  and  sets  and  sets, 
Inspirin'  that  humbled  editor  man, 

Which  sweats  and  sweats  and  sweats  1 

All  unavailin'  his  struggles  be, 

And  it's,  O,  a  weepin'  sight 
To  see  a  great  editor  bold  and  free 

Redacted  to  sech  a  plight  ! 


BLACK  BEETLES  IN  AMBER 


BART,   PoS" 

,  good  friend;   as  you  have  served  your 
term, 

And  found  the  joy  of  crime  to  be  a  fiction, 
I  hope  you'll  hold  your  present  faith,  stand  firm 
And  not  again  be  open  to  conviction. 

Your  sins,  though  scarlet  once,  are  now  as  wool  : 
You've  made  atonement  for  all  past  offenses, 

And  conjugated — 'twas  an  awful  pull !  — 

The  verb  "  to  pay  "  in  all  its  moods  and  tenses. 

You  were  a  dreadful  criminal — by  Heaven. 

I  think  there  never  was  a  man  so  sinful  ! 
We've  all  a  pinch  or  two  of  Satan's  leaven, 

But  you  appeared  to  have  an  even  skinful. 

Earth  shuddered  with  aversion  at  your  name; 

Rivers  fled  backward,  gravitation  scorning; 
The  sea  and  sky,  from  thinking  on  your  shame, 

Grew  lobster-red  at  eve  and  in  the  morning. 

But  still  red-handed  at  your  horrid  trade 

You  wrought,  to  reason  deaf,  and  to  compassion. 

But  now  with  gods  and  men  your  peace  is  made 
I  beg  you  to  be  good  and  in  the  fashion. 


BLACK  BEETLES  AV  AMBER  97 


What's  that  ? — you   "  ne'er  again  will  rob  a  stage  "  ? 

What  !  did  you  do  so  ?     Faith,  I  didn't  know  it. 
Was  that  what  threw  poor  Themis  in  a  rage  ? 

I  thought  you  were  convicted  as  a  poet ! 

I  own  it  was  a  comfort  to  my  soul, 

And  soothed  it  better  than  the  deepest  curses, 

To  think  they'd  got  one  poet  in  a  hole 

Where,    though  he  wrote,  he  could  not  print,  his 
verses. 

I  thought  that  Welcker,  Plunkett,  Brooks,  and  all 
The  ghastly  crew  who  always  are  begriming 

With  villian  couplets  every  page  and  wall, 

Might  be  arrested  and  "  run  in  "  for  rhyming. 

And  then  Parnassus  would  be  left  to  me, 
And  Pegasus  should  bear  me  up  it  gaily, 

Xor  down  a  steep  place  run  into  the  sea, 
As  now  he  must  be  tempted  to  do  daily. 

Well,  grab  the  lyre-strings,  hearties,  and  begin  : 
Bawl  your  harsh  souls  all  out  upon  the  gravel. 

I  must  endure  you,  for  you'll  never  sin 

By  robbing  coaches,  until  dead  men  travel. 


98  BLACK  BEETLES  L.V  AMBER 


A    "SCION   OF   XOBIUTY 


,  sisters,  weep!  —  our  Baron  dear, 
Alas  !  has  run  away. 
If  al  ways  we  had  kept  him  here 
He  had  not  gone  astray. 

Painter  and  grainer  it  were  vain 

To  say  he  was,  before  ; 
And  if  he  were,  yet  ne'er  again 

He'll  darken  here  a  door. 

We  mourn  each  matrimonial  plan— 
Kveii  tradesmen  join  the  cry  : 

He  was  so  promising  a  man 
Whenever  he  did  buy. 

He  was  a  fascinating  lad, 

Deny  it  all  who  may; 
Even  moneyed  men  confess  he  had 

A  very  taking  way. 

So  from  our  tables  he  is  gone  — 
Our  tears  descend  in  showers  ; 

We  loved  the  very  fat  upon 
His  kidneys,  for  'twas  ours. 

To  women  he  was  all  respect 

To  duns  as  cold  as  ice  ; 
No  lady  could  his  suit  reject, 

No  tailor  get  its  price. 


BLACK  BEETLES  AV  AMBER  99 

He  raised  our  hope  above  the  sky  ; 

Alas  i   alack  !  and  O  ! 
That  one  who  worked  it  up  so  high 

Should  play  it  down  so  low  ! 


THE   XIGHT   OF   ELECTION 

VENERABLE    patriot,  I  pray 
Stand  not  here  coatless;  at  the  break  of  day 
We'll  know  the  grand  result — and  even  now 
The  eastern  sky  is  faintly  touched  with  gray. 

'  It  ill  befits  thine  age's  hoary  crown — 
This  rude  environment  of  rogue  and  clown, 

Who,  as  the  lying  bulletins  appear, 
With  drunken  cries  incarnadine  the  town. 

1  Hut  if  wyith  noble  zeal  }*ou  stay  to  note 
The  outcome  of  your  patriotic  vote 

For  Elaine,  or  Cleveland,  and  your  native  land, 
Take — and  God  bless  you  ! — take  my  overcoat." 

'  Done,  pard — and  mighty  white  of  you.     And  now 
guess  the  country' 11  keep  the  trail  somehow. 
I  aint  allowed  to  vote,  the  Warden  said, 
But  whacked  my  coat  up  on  old  Stanislow. " 


BLACK  BEETLES  IN  AMBER 


THE  CONVICTS'    BALL 

SAN  QUKNTIN  was  brilliant.     Within  the  halls 
Of  the  noble  pile  with  the  frowning  walls 
(God  knows  they've  enough  to  make  them  frown, 
With  a  Governor  trying  to  break  them  down  ! ) 
Was  a  blaze  of  light.     'Twas  the  natal  day 
Of  his  nibs  the  popular  John  S.  Gray, 
And  many  observers  considered  his  birth 
The  primary  cause  of  his  moral  worth. 
The  ball  is  free  !  "  cried  Black  Bart,  and  they  all 
Said  a  ball  with  no  chain  was  a  novel  ball  ; 
And  I  never  have  seed,"  said  Jimmy  Hope, 
Sech  a  lightsome  dance  withouten  a  rope." 
Chinamen,  Indians,  Portuguese,  Blacks, 
Russians,  Italians,  Kanucks  and  Kanaks, 
Chilenos,  Peruvians,  Mexicans — all 
Greased  with  their  presence  that  notable  ball. 
None  were  excluded  excepting,  perhaps, 
The  Rev.  Morrison's  churchly  chaps, 
Whom,  to  prevent  a  religious  debate, 
The  Warden  had  banished  outside  of  the  gate. 
The  fiddler,  fiddling  his  hardest  the  while, 
Called  off"  in  the  regular  foot-hill  style  : 
Circle  to  the  left !  "  and  "  Forward  and  back  I" 
And  "  Helium  to  port  for  the  stabbard  tack  ! " 
(This  great  virtitoso,  it  would  appear, 
Was  Mate  of  the  Gatherer  many  a  year. ) 


BL  A  CK  BEE  TL  ES  IN  A  i  \IBER  i  o  i 

.  Illy  man  left !  " — to  a  painful*  degree 
His  French  was  unlike  to  the  French  of  Paree, 
As  heard  from  our  countrymer.  latety  abroad, 
And  his  "doe  cce  doc"  was  the  gem  of  the  fraud. 
But  what  can  you  hope  from  a  gentleman  barred 
From  circles  of  culture  by  dogs  in  the  yard? 
'Tvvas  a  glorious  dance,  though,  all  the  same, 
The  Jardin  Mabille  in  the  days  of  its  fame 
Xever  saw  legs  perform  such  springs— 
The  cold-chisel's  magic  had  given  them  wings. 
They  footed  it  featly,  those  lades  and  gents: 
Dull  care  (said  Long  Moll)  had  a  helly  go-hence  ! 

'Twas  a  very  aristocratic  affair  : 
The  ere  me  de  la  ere  me  and  elite  were  there — 
Rank,  beauty  and  wealth  from  the  highest  sets, 
And  Hubert  Howe  Bancroft  sent  his  regrets. 


A    PRAYER 

SWEET  Spirit  of  Cesspool,  hear  a  mother's  prayer 
Her  terrors  pacify  and  offspring  spare  ! 
Upon  Silurians  alone  let  fall 
(And  God  in  Heaven  have  mercy  on  them  all !) 
The  red  revenges  of  your  fragrant  breath, 
Hot  with  the  flames  invisible  of  death. 
Sing  in  each  nose  a  melody  of  smells, 
And  lead  them  snoutwise  to  their  several  hells  ! 


102  BLACK  BEETLES  IN  AMBER 


TO   ONE    DETESTED 

,  you're  a  veteran,  revealed 
In  history  and  fable 
As  warrior  since  you  took  the  field. 
Defeating  Abel. 

As  Commissary  later  (or 
If  not,  in  every  cottage 
The  tale  is)  you  contracted  for 
A  mess  of  pottage. 

In  civil  life  3*011  were,  we  read 
(And  our  respect  increases) 
A  man  of  peace — a  man,  indeed, 
Of  thirty  pieces. 

To  paying  taxes  when  you  turned 
Your  mind,  or  what  you  call  so, 
A  wide  celebrity  you  earned — 
Saphira  also. 

In  every  age,  by  various  names, 
You've  won  renown  in  story, 
But  on  your  present  record  flames 
A  greater  glory. 


BLACK  BEETLES  IN  AMBER  103 

Cain,  Esau,  and  Iscariot,  too, 

And  Ananias,  likewise, 
Each  had  peculiar  powers,  but  who 
Could  lie  as  Mike  lies  ? 


THE   BOSS'S    CHOICE 

LISTEN  to  his  wild  romances  : 
He  advances  foolish  fancies, 
Each  expounded  as  his  "  view  " 
Gu. 

In  his  brain's  opacous  clot,  ah 
He  has  got  a  maggot  !     What  a 
Man  with  "  views  "  to  overwhelm  us 
Gulielmus. 

Hear  his  demagogic  clamor — 
Hear  him  stammer  in  his  grammar  ! 
Teaching,  he  will  learn  to  spell— 
Gulielmus  Iy. 

Slave  who  paid  the  price  demanded— 
With  two-handed  iron  branded 
By  the  boss — pray  cease  to  dose  us, 
Gulielmus  L.  Jocosus. 


K>4  BLACK  BEETLES  IX  AMBER 


A   MERCIFUL   GOVERNOR 

OTANDING  within  the  triple  wall  of  Hell, 
^     And  flattening  his  nose  against  a  grate 
Behind  whose  brazen  bars  he'd  had  to  dwell 
A  thousand  million  ages  to  that  date, 
Stoneman  bewailed  his  melancholy  fate, 
And  his  big  tear-drops,  boiling  as  they  fell, 
Had  worn  between  his  feet,  the  record  mentions, 
A  deep  depression  in  the    "  good  intentions/1 

Imperfectly  by  memory  taught  how — 

For  prayer  in  Hell  is  a  lost  art — he  prayed, 
Uplifting  his  incinerated  brow 

And  flaming  hands  in  supplication's  aid. 
O  grant,"  he  cried,  "  my  torment  may  be  stayed— 
In  mercy,  some  short  breathing  spell  allow  ! 
If  one  good  deed  I  did  before  my  ghosting, 
Spare  me  and  give  Delmas  a  double  roasting.' 

Breathing  a  holy  harmony  in  Hell, 

Down  through  the  appalling  clamors  of  the  place, 
Charming  them  all  to  willing  concord,  fell 

A  Voice  ineffable  and  full  of  grace  : 
Because  of  all  the  law-defying  race 
One  single  malefactor  of  the  cell 
Thou  didst  not  free  from  his  incarceration, 
Take  thou  ten  thousand  years  of  condonation." 


BLACK  BEETLES  IN  AMBER  105 

Back  from  their  fastenings  began  to  shoot 

The  rusted  bolts  ;  with  dreadful  roar,  the  gate 
Laboriously  turned  ;  and,  black  with  soot, 

The  extinguished  spirit  passed  that  awful  strait, 
And  as  he  legged  it  into  space,  elate, 
Muttered  :    "  Yes,  I  remember  that  galoot — 
I'd  signed  his  pardon,  ready  to  allot  it, 
But  stuck  it  in  my  desk  and  quite  forget  it." 


AN   INTERPRETATION 

NOW  Lonergan  appears  upon  the  boards, 
And   Truth    and    Error    sheathe   their   lingual 

swords. 

No  more  in  wordy  warfare  to  engage, 
The  commentators  bow  before  the  stage, 
And  bookworms,  militant  for  ages  past, 
Confess  their  equal  foolishness  at  last, 
Reread  their  Shakspeare  in  the  newer  light 
And  swear  the  meaning's  obvious  to  sight. 
For  centuries  the  question  has  been  hot : 
Was  Hamlet  crazy,  or  was  Hamlet  not  ? 
Now,  lyonergan's  illuminating  art 
Reveals  the  truth  of  the  disputed  ''part," 
And  shows  to  all  the  critics  of  the  earth 
That  Hamlet  was  an  idiot  from  birth  ! 


io6  BLACK  BEETLES  IN  AMBER 


A   SOARING   TOAD 

SO,  Governor,  3-011  would  not  serve  again 
Although  we'd  all  agree  to  pay  you  double. 
You  find  it  all  is  vanity  and  pain  — 

One  clump  of  clover  in  a  field  of  stubble  — 
One  grain  of  pleasure  in  a  peck  of  trouble. 
'Tis  sad,  at  your  age,  having  to  complain 
Of  disillusion  ;  but  the  fault  is  whose 
When  pigmies  stumble,  wearing  giants'  shoes? 

I  humbly  told  you  many  moons  ago 
For  high  preferment  you  were  all  unfit. 

A  clumsy  bear  makes  but  a  sorry  show 
Climbing  a  pole.     Let  him,  judicious,  sit 
With  dignity  at  bottom  of  his  pit, 

And  none  his  awkwardness  will  ever  know. 

Some  beasts  look  better,  and  feel  better,  too, 

Seen  from  above  ;  and  so,  I  think,  would  you. 


Why,  you  were  mad  !     Did  }^ou  suppose  because 
Our  foolish  system  suffers  foolish  men 

To  climb  to  power,  make,  enforce  the  laws, 

And,  it  is  whispered,  break  them  now  and  then, 
We  love  the  fellows  and  respect  them  when 

We've  stilled  the  volume  of  our  loud  hurrahs  ? 

When  folly  blooms  we  trample  it  the  more 

For  having  fertilized  it  heretofore. 


BLACK  BEETLES  IN  AMBER  107 

Behold  yon  laborer  !     His  garb  is  mean, 
His  face  is  grimy,  but  who  thinks  to  ask 

The  measure  of  his  brains  ?     'Tis  only  seen 
He's  fitted  for  his  honorable  task, 
And  so  delights  the  mind.     But  let  him  bask 

In  droll  prosperity,  absurdly  clean — 

Is  that  the  man  whom  we  admired  before  ? 

Good  Lord,  how  ignorant,  and  what  a  bore  ! 

Better  for  you  that  thoughtless  men  had  said 
(Noting  your  fitness  in  the  humbler  sphere)  : 

"  Why  don't  they  make  him  Governor?  "  instead 
Of,  "  Why  the  devil  did  they  ?  "     But  I  fear 
My  words  on  ^our  inhospitable  ear 

Are  wasted  like  a  sermon  to  the  dead. 

Still,  they  may  profit  you  if  studied  well  : 

You  can't  be  taught  to  think,  but  may  to  spell. 


AX    UXDRESS    UNIFORM 

The  apparel  does  not  proclaim  the  man— 

Polonius  lied  like  a  partisan, 

And  Salomon  still  \vould  a  hero  seem 

If  (Heaven  dispel  the  impossible  dream  ! ) 

He  stood  in  a  shroud  on  the  hangman's  trap, 

His  eye  burning  holes  in  the  black,  black  cap. 

And  the  crowd  below  would  exclaim  amain  : 

He's  ready  to  fall  for  his  country  again  !  " 


loS  BLACK  BEETLES  IN  A  1MB. 


THE   PERVERTED   VILLAGE 

AFTER    GOLDSMITH 

SWEET  Auburn  !  liveliest  village  of  the  plain. 
Whfc-re  Health  and  Slander  welcome   every  in 
Whence  smiling  innocence,  its  tribute  paid, 
Retires  in  terror,  wounded  and  dismayed — 
Dear  lovely  bowers  of  gossip  and  disease, 
Whose  climate  cures  us  that  thy  dames  may  tease, 
How  often  have  I  knelt  upon  thy  green 
And  prayed  for  death,  to  mitigate  their  spleen  ! 
How  often  have  I  paused  on  every  chann 
With  mingled  admiration  and  alarm — 
The  brook  that  runs  by  man}'  a  scandal-mill. 
The  church  whose  pastor  groans  upon  the  grill, 
The  cowthorn  bush  with  seats  beneath  the  shade, 
Where  hearts  are  struck  and  reputations  flciyed  : 
How  often  wished  thine  idle  wives,  some  day, 
Might  more  at  whist,  less  at  the  devil,  play. 

Unblest  retirement  !  ere  my  life's  decline 
(Killed  by  detraction)  may  I  witness  thine. 
How  happy  she  who,  shunning  shades  like  these, 
Finds  in  a  wolf-den  greater  peace  and  ease  ; 
Who  quits  the  place  whence  truth  did  earlier  ily, 
And  rather  than  come  back  prefers  to  die  ! 
For  her  no  jealous  maids  renounce  their  sleep, 
Contriving  malices  to  make  her  weep  ; 


BLACK  BEETLES  IN  AMBER  100 

No  iron-faced  dames  her  character  debate 
Arid  spurn  imploring  mercy  from  the  gate  ; 
But  down  she  lies  to  a  more  peaceful  end, 
For  wolves  do  not  calumniate,  but  rend — 
Sinks  piecemeal  to  their  maws,  a  willing  prey, 
While  resignation  lubricates  the  way, 
And  all  her  prospects  brighten  at  the  last : 
To  wolves,  not  wTomen,  an  approved  repast. 
1884. 


MR.    SHEETS 

THE  Devil  stood  before  the  gate 
Of  Heaven.     He  had  a  single  mate  : 
Behind  him,  in  his  shadow,  slunk 
Clay  Sheets  in  a  perspiring  funk. 
Saint  Peter,  see  this  season  ticket," 
Said  Satan  ;   "  pray  undo  the  wicket." 
The  sleep}'  Saint  threw  slight  regard 
Upon  the  proffered  bit  of  card, 
Signed  by  some  clerical  dead-beats  : 
Admit  the  bearer  and  Clay  Sheets." 
Peter  expanded  all  his  eyes  : 

Clay  Sheets  ?  ' — well,  I'll  be  damned  !  "   he  cries. 
Our  couches  are  of  golden  cloud  ; 
Nothing  of  earth  is  here  allowed. 
I'll  let  you  in,"  he  added,  shedding 
On  Nick  a  smile — "but  not  your  bedding." 


no  13 LACK  BEETLES  /,Y  AMBER 


A  JACK-AT-A3X-VIEWS 

SO,  Kstee,  yon  are  still  alive  !     I  thought 
That  yon  had  died  and  were  a  blessed  ghost 
I  know  at  least  your  coffin  once  was  bought 
With  Railroad  money ;   and  'twas  said  by  most 
Historians  that  Stanford  made  a  boast 
The  seller  "  threw  you  in."     That  goes  for  naught- 
Man  takes  delight  in  fancy's  fine  inventions, 
A:id  \voman  too,   'tis  said,  if  they  are  French  ones. 

Do  you  remember,  Hstee — ah,  'twas  long 

And  long  ago  ! — how  fierce  you  grew  and  hot 

When  anything  impeded  the  straight,  strong, 
Wild  sweep  of  the  great  billow  you  had  got 
Atop  of,  like  a  swimmer  bold  ?  Great  Scott  ! 

How  fine  your  wavemanship  !     How  loud  your  song 

Of  "Down   with   railroads!"      When   the  wave  sub 
sided 

And  left  you  stranded  you  were  much  divided. 

Then  for  a  time  }TOU  were  content  to  wade 
The  waters  of  the  "robber  barons'  "  moat. 

To  fetch  and  carry  was  your  humble  trade, 
And  ferry  Stanford  over  in  a  boat, 
Well  paid  if  he  bestowed  the  kindly  groat 

And  spoke  you  fair  and  called  you  pretty  maid. 

And  when  his  stomach  seemed  a  bit  unsteady 

You  got  your  serviceable  basin  ready. 


ULACK  JJEETLES  IN  AMBER  in 

vStrange  man  !  how  odd  to  see  you,  smug  and  spruce, 
There  at  Chicago,  burrowed  in  a  Chair, 

Not  made  to  measure  and  a  deal  too  loose, 
And  see  you  lift  your  little  arm  and  swear 
Democracy  shall  be  no  more  !     If  it's  a  fair 

And  civil  question,  and  not  too  abstruse, 

Were  you  elected  as  a  "robber  baron," 

Or  as  a  Communist  whose  teeth  had  hair  011  ? 


MY   LORD    POET 

C  cTTTHO  drives  fat  oxen  should  himself  be  fat ;  " 
*  V      \Vho  sings  for  nobles,  he  should  noble  be. 

There's  no  non  sequitur,  I  think,  in  that, 
And  this  is  logic  plain  as  a,  b,  c. 

"Mow,  Hector  Stuart,  you're  a  Scottish  prince, 
If  right  you  fathom  your  descent — -that  fall 

From  grace  ;  and  since  you  have  no  peers,  and  since 
You  have  no  kind  of  nobleness  at  all, 

'Twere  better  to  sing  little,  lest  you  wince 
When  made  by  heartless  critics  to  sing  small. 

And  3Tet,  my  liege,  I  bid  you  not  despair- 
Ambition  conquers  but  a  realm  at  once  : 

For  European  bays  arrange  your  hair — 

Two  continents,  in  time,  shall  crown  you  Dunce  ! 


ii2  BLACK  BEETLES  IN  AMBEP 


TO   THE   FOOL-KILLER 

AH,  welcome,  welcome  !    Sit  you  down,  oldfrien  ' 
-£"*-     Your  pipe  I'll  serve,  your  bottle  I'll  attend 
'Tis  mail}7  a  }~ear  since  you  and  I  have  known 
Society  more  pleasant  than  our  own 
In  our  brief  respites  from  excessive  work — - 
I  pointing  out  the  hearts  for  you  to  dirk. 
What  have  you  done  since  lately  at  this  board 
We  canvassed  the  deserts  of  all  the  horde 
And  chose  what  names  would  please  the  people  best 
Engraved  on  coffin-plates — what  bounding  breast 
Would  give  more  satisfaction  if  at  rest  ? 
But  never  mind — the  record  cannot  fail  : 
The  loftiest  monuments  will  tell  the  talc. 

I  trust  ere  next  we  meet  you  '11  slay  the  chap 
Who  calls  old  Tyler  {<  Judge  ' '  and  Merry  ' '  Cap  ? 
Calls  John  P.  Irish   "  Colonel"  and  John  P., 
Whose  surname  Jack-son  speaks  his  pedigree, 
By  the  same  title — men  of  equal  rank 
Though  one  is  belly  all,  and  one  all  shank, 
Showing  their  several  service  in  the  fray  : 
One  fought  for  food  and  one  to  get  aw  a  3*. 
I  hope,  I  say,  you'll  kill  the   "  title"  man 
Who  saddles  one  on  every  back  he  can, 
Then  rides  it  from  Beersheba  to  Dan  ! 


BLACK  BEETLES  IN  AMBER  1 

Another  fool,  I  trust,  you  will  perform 

Your  office  on  while  my  resentment's  warm  : 

He  shakes  my  hand  a  dozen  times  a  day 

If,  luckless,  I  so  often  cross  his  way, 

Though  I've  three  senses  besides  that  of  touch, 

To  make  me  conscious  of  a  fool  too  much. 

Seek  him,  friend  Killer,  and  your  purpose  make 

Apparent  as  his  guilty  hand  you  take, 

And  set  him  trembling  with  a  solemn  :     "  Shake  ! 

But  chief  of  all  the  addle- witted  crew 

Conceded  by  the  Hangman's  League  to  you, 

The  fool  (his  dam's  acquainted  with  a  knave) 

Whose  fluent  pen,  of  his  no-brain  the  slave, 

Strews  notes  of  introduction  o'er  the  land 

A:id  calls  it  hospitality — his  hand 

May  palsy  seize  ere  he  again  consign 

To  me  his  friend,  as  I  to  Hades  mine  ! 

Pity  the  wretch,  his  faults  howe'er  you  see, 

Whom  A  accredits  to  his  victim,  B. 

Like  shuttlecock  which  battledores  attack 

(One  speeds  it  forward,  one  would  drive  it  back) 

Tlie  trustful  simpleton  is  twice  unblest — 

A  rare  good  riddance,  an  unwelcome  guest. 

The  glad  consignor  rubs  his  hands  to  think 

How  duty  is  commuted  into  ink  ; 

The  consignee  (his  hands  he  cannot  rub — 

He  has  the  man  upon  them)  mutters  :  "  Cub  !  " 

And  straightway  plans  to  lose  him  at  the  Club. 

You  know,  good  Killer,  where  this  dunce  abides 

The  secret  jungle  where  he  writes  and  hides — 

Though  no  exploring  foot  has  e'er  upstirred 


1 14  P>LA CK  13 EE TL ES  IN  AMBER 

His  human  elephant's  exhaustless  herd. 

Go,  bring  his  blood  !     We'll  drink  it — letting  fall 

A  due  libation  to  the  gods  of  Gall. 

On  second  thought,  the  gods  may  have  it  ail, 


ONE  AND   ONE   ARK  TWO 


^  I  MiK  trumpet  sounded  and  the  dead 
-*-      Carne  forth  from  earth  and  ocean, 
And  Pickering  arose  and  sped 
Aloft  with  wobbling  motion. 

What  makes  him  fly  lop-sided  ?  "  cried 

A  soul  of  the  elected. 
One  ear  was  wax,  "  a  rogue  replied, 
"  And  isn't  resurrected." 

Below  him  on  the  pitted  plain, 

By  his  abandoned  hollow, 
His  hair  and  teeth  tried  all  in  vain 

The  rest  of  him  to  follow. 

Saint  Peter,  seeing  him  ascend, 
Came  forward  to  the  wicket, 

And  said  :     "  My  mutilated  friend, 
I'll  thank  you  for  your  ticket." 

The  Call"  said  Pickering,  his  hand 

To  reach  the  latch  extended. 
Said  Peter,  affable  and  bland  : 
"  The  free-list  is  suspended  — 


BLACK  J1EETLES  IX  AMHER  115 

What  claim  have  you  that's  valid  here?  " 

That  ancient  vilifier 
Reflected  ;   then,  with  look  austere, 

Replied  :   "I  am  a  liar." 

Said  Peter:    ''That  is  simple,  neat 

And  candid  Anglo-Saxon, 
But — well,  come  in,  and  take  a  seat 

Up  there  by  Colonel  Jackson." 


MONTAGUE   LEYERSOX 

AS  some  enormous  violet  that  towers 
^-*-     Colossal  o'er  the  heads  of  lowlier  flowers- 
Its  giant  petals  royally  displayed, 
And  casting  half  the  landscape  into  shade  ; 
Delivering  its  odors,  like  the  blows 
Of  some  strong  slugger,  at  the  public  nose  ; 
Pride  of  two  Nations — for  a  single  State 
Would  scarce  suffice  to  sprout  a  plant  so  great  ; 
So  Leverson's  humility,  outgrown 
The  meaner  virtues  that  he  deigns  to  own, 
To  the  high  skies  its  great  corolla  rears, 
O'ertopping  all  he  has  except  his  ears. 


u6  BLACK  BEETLES  IN  AMBER 


THE   WOFUL   TALE   OF   MR.    PETERS 

I  SHOULD  like,  good  friends,  to  mention  the  dis 
aster  which  befell 

Mr.  William  Perry  Peters,  of  the  town  of  Muscatel, 
Whose   fate  is  full  of  meaning,   if  correctly  under 
stood — 
Admonition  to  the  haughty,  consolation  to  the  good. 

It  happened  in  the  hot  snap  which  we  recently  in 
curred, 

When  'twas  warm  enough  to  carbonize  the  feathers 
of  a  bird, 

And  men  exclaimed  :  "  By  Hunky  !  "  who  were  bad 
enough  to  swear, 

And  pious  persons  supervised  their  adjectives  with 
care. 

Mr.  Peters  was  a  pedagogue  of  honor  and  repute, 
His  learning  comprehensive,  multifarious,  minute. 
It  was  commonly  conceded  in  the  section  whence  he 

came 
That   the    man    who    played    against    him    needed 

knowledge  of  the  game. 

And  some  there  were  who  whispered,  in  the  town 
of  Muscatel, 

That  besides  the  game  of  Draw  he  knew  Orthog 
raphy  as  well  ; 


BL  A  CK  BEE  TL  ES  IV  A .  UfiEA'  1 1 7 

Though  the  school   directors,    frigidly   contemning 

that  as  stuff, 
Thought   that    Draw    (and    maybe    Spelling,    if    it 

pleased  him)  was  enough. 

Withal,  he  was  a  haughty  man — indubitably  great, 
But  too  vain  of  his  attainments  and  his  power  in  de 
bate. 

His  mien  was  contumelious  to  men  of  lesser  gift : 
1  It's  only  me,"  he  said,    "  can  give  the  human  mind 
a  lift. 

Before  a  proper  audience,  if  ever  I've  a  chance, 

You'll  see  me  chipping  in,  the  cause  of  Learning  to 
advance. 

Just  let  me  have  a  decent  chance  to  back  my  mental 
hand 

And  I'll  come  to  center  lightly  in  a  way  they'll  un 
derstand.  " 

Such  was  William  Pern*  Peters,  and  I  feel  a  poign 
ant  sense 

Of  grief  that  I'm  unable  to  employ  the  present 
tense  ; 

But  Providence  disposes,  be  our  scheming  what  it 
ma}-, 

And  disposed  of  Mr.  Peters  in  a  cold,  regardless 
way. 

It   occurred   in  San   Francisco,  whither   Mr.  Peters 

came 
In   the  cause   of  Education,   feeling   still  the   holy 

flame 


3  BLACK  BEETLES  IN  AMBER 

Of  ambition  to  assist  in  lifting  up  the  human  mind 
To  a  higher  plane  of  knowledge  than  its  Architect 
designed. 


He  attended  the  convention  of  the  pedagogic  host ; 

He  was  first  in  the  Pavilion,  he  was  last  to  leave 
his  post. 

For  days  and  days  he  narrowly  observed  the  Chair 
man's  eye, 

His  efforts  ineffectual  to  catch  it  on  the  fly. 

The  blessed   moment  came  at  last :    the  Chairman 

tipped  his  head. 
"  The  gentleman  from  ah — um — er,"  that  functionary 

said. 
The   gentleman  from   ah — um — er   reflected  with  a 

grin  : 

"  They'll    know    me    better    by-and-by,    when     I'm 
a-chipping  in." 

So    William   Perry  Peters  mounted  cheerfully    his 

feet— 
And   straightway   was  aglow  with   an  incalculable 

heat! 

His  face  was  as  effulgent  as  a  human  face  could  be, 
And  caloric  emanated  from  his  whole  periphery  ; 

For  he  felt  himself  the   focus  of  non-Muscatelish 

eyes, 
And  the  pain  of  their  convergence  was  a  terror  and 

surprise. 


BLACK  BEETLES  IN  AMBER  119 

As  with  pitiless  impaction   all   their  heat-waves  on 

on  him  broke 
He   was    seen   to    be    evolving    awful  quantities  of 

smoke  ! 

"  Put  him  out !  "  cried  all  in  chorus  ;  but  the  mean 
ing  wasn't  clear 

Of  that  succoring  suggestion  to  his  obfuscated  ear; 
And  it  notably  augmented  his  incinerating  glow 
To  regard  himself  excessive,  or  in  any  way  de  trop. 

Gone  was  all  his  wild  ambition  to  lift  up  the  human 

mind  ! — 
Gone  the  words  he  would  have  uttered  ! — gone  the 

thought  that  lay  behind  ! 
For   "words   that  burn"   may    be    consumed    in   a 

superior  flame, 
And    "  thoughts  that  breathe"   may  breathe   their 

last,  and  die  a  death  of  shame. 

He'd  known  himself  a  shining  light,  but   never  had 

he  known 

Himself  so  very  luminous  as  now  he  knew  he  shone. 
A  pillar,  I,  of  fire,"   he'd  said,    "to  guide  my  race 

will  be  ;  " 
And  now  that  very  inconvenient  thing   to   him   was 

he. 

He  stood  there  all  irresolute  ;   the  seconds  went  and 

came  ; 
The  minutes  passed  and  did  but  add  fresh  fuel  to 

his  flame. 


120  BLACK  BEETLES  IN  AMBER 

How  long  he  stood  he  knew  not — 'twas   a   century 

or  more — 
And  then  that  incandescent   man   levanted   for  the 

door ! 

He  darted  like  a   comet  from  the   building  to  the 

stieet, 
Where    Fahrenheit    attested  ninety-five   degrees   of 

heat. 
Vicissitudes    of    climate    make    the    tenure    of  the 

breath 
Precarious,  and  William  Perry  Peters  froze  to  death  ; 


TWIN   UNWORTHIES 

YE  parasites  that  to  the  rich  men  stick, 
As  to  the  fattest  sheep  the  thrifty  tick- 
Ed' ard  to  Stanford  and  to  Crocker  Ben 
(To  Ben  and  Ed' ard  many  meaner  men, 
And  lice  to  these) — who  do  the  kind  of  work 
That  thieves  would  have  the  honesty  to  shirk- - 
Whose  wages  are  that  your  employers  own 
The  fat  that  reeks  upon  your  every  bone 
And  deigns  to  ask  (the  flattery  how  sweet !) 
About  its  health  and  how  it  stands  the  heat, — 
Hail  and  farewell  !     I  meant  to  write  about  you, 
But,  no,  my  page  is  cleaner  far  without  3-011. 


:  BEETLES  IN  AMBER 


ANOTHER 


OWEN,  of  San  Jose, 
Commonly  known  as  "our  friend  J.  J." 
Weary  of  scribbling  for  daily  bread, 
Weary  of  writing  what  nobody  read, 
Slept  one  day  at  his  desk  and  dreamed 
That  an  angel  before  him  stood  and  beamed 
With  compassionate  eyes  upon  him  there. 

Editor  Owen  is  not  so  fair 
In  feature,  expression,  form  or  limb 
But  glances  like  that  are  familiar  to  him; 
And  so,  to  arrive  by  the  shortest  route 
At  his  visitor's  will  he  said,  simply:   "  Toot.  '  ' 
"  Editor  Owen,'  '  the  angel  said, 
;'  Scribble  no  more  for  your  daily  bread. 

Your  intellect  staggers  and  falls  and  bleeds, 
Weary  of  writing  what  nobody  reads. 
Eschew  now  the  quill  —  in  the  coming  years 
Homilize  man  through  his  idle  ears. 
Go  lecture  !  "      "Just  what  I  intended  to  do," 
Said  Owen.     The  angel  looked  pained  and  flew 

Editor  Owen,  of  San  Jose, 
Commonly  known  as  "our  friend  J.  J." 
Scribbling  no  more  to  supply  his  needs, 
Weary  of  writing  what  nobody  reads, 
Passes  of  life  each  golden  year 
Speaking  what  nobody  comes  to  hear. 


BLACK  BEETLES  IN  AMBER 


A   POLITICAL   A  POST  ATI  v 

GOOD  friend,  it  is  with  deep  regret  I  note 
The  latest,  strangest  turning  of  3-0111'  coat  ; 
Though  any  \vay  3rou  wear  that  mental  clout 
The  seamy  side  seems  alwaj^s  to  be  out. 
Who  could  have  thought  that  3*011  would  e'er  sust; 
The  Southern  shotgun's  arbitrary  reign  ! — 
Your  sturdy  hand  assisting  to  replace 
The  broken  j-oke  on  a  delivered  race  ; 
The  ballot's  purity  no  more  your  care, 
With  equal  privilege  to  dark  and  fair. 
To  Yesterday  a  traitor,  to  To-day 
You're  constant  but  the  better  to  betray 
To-morrow.     Your  convictions  all  are  naught 
But  the  wild  asses  of  the  world  of  thought, 
Which,  flying  mindless  o'er  the  barren  plain, 
Perceive  at  last  they've  nothing  so  to  gain, 
And,  turning  penitent  upon  their  track, 
Economize  their  strength  by  flying  back. 

Ex-champion  of  Freedom,  battle-lunged, 
No  more,  red-handed,  or  at  least  red-tongued, 
Brandish  the  javelin  which  by  others  thrown 
Clove  Sambo's  heart  to  quiver  in  3rour  own  ! 
Confess  no  more  that  when  his  blood  was  shed, 
And  3*ou  so  S3Tmpathetically  bled, 


BLACK  BEETLES  IN  AlIBEtt  123 

The  bow  that  spanned  the  mutual  cascade 
Was  but  the  promise  of  a  roaring  trade 
In  offices.     Your  fingering  now  the  trigger 
Shows  that  you  knew  your  Kegro  was  a  nigger  ! 
Ad  homincm  this  argnmcntum  runs  : 
Peace  ! — let  us  fire  another  kind  of  guns. 

I  grant  3*011,  friend,  that  it  is  very  true 
The  Blacks  are  ignorant — and  sable,  too. 
What  then  ?     One  \vay  of  two  a  fool  must  vote, 
And  either  wa>r  with  gentlemen  of  note 
Whose  villain  feuds  the  fact  attest  too  well 
That  pedagogues  nor  vice  nor  error  quell. 
The  fiercest  controversies  ever  rage 
When  Miltons  and  Salmasii  engage. 
Xo  project  wide  attention  ever  drew 
But  it  disparted  all  the  learned  crew. 
As   through    their  group    the  cleaving   line's    pro 
longed 

With  fiery  combatants  each  field  is  thronged. 
In  battle-royal  the)'  engage  at  once 
For  guidance  of  the  hesitating  dunce. 
The  Titans  on  the  heights  contend  full  soon — 
On  this  side  Webster  and  on  that  Calhoun, 
The  monstrous  conflagration  of  their  fight 
Startling  the  day  and  splendoring  the  night ! 
Both  are  unconquerable — one  is  right. 
Will't  keep  the  pigmy,  if  we  make  him  strong, 
From  siding  with  a  giant  in  the  wrong  ? 
When  Genius  strikes  for  error,  who's  afraid 
To  arm  poor  Folly  with  a  wooden  blade  ? 
O  Rabelais,  vou  knew  it  all  !  — vour  crood 


124  BLACK  BEETLES  IN  AMBER 

And  honest  judge  (by  men  misunderstood) 
Knew  to  be  right  there  was  but  one  device 
Less  fallible  than  ignorance — the  dice. 
The  time  must  come — Heaven  expedite  the  day 
When  all  mankind  shall  their  decrees  obey, 
And  nations  prosper  in  their  peaceful  sway. 


TINKER   DICK 

GOOD  Parson  Dickson  preached,  I'm  told, 
A  sermon— ah,  'twas  very  old 
And  very,  very  bald  ! 
'Twas  all  about — I  know  not  what 
It  was  about,  nor  what  'twas  not. 
"  A  Screw  Loose"  it  was  called. 

Whatever,  Parson  Dick,  you  say, 
The  world  will  get  each  blessed  day 

Still  more  and  more  askew, 
And  fall  apart  at  last.     Great  snakes  ! 
What  skillful  tinker  ever  takes 

His  tongue  to  turn  a  screw? 


BLACK  BEETLES  IX  AMBER  125 


BATS    IX   SUNSHINE 

WELE,  Mr.  Kemble,  you  are  called,  I  think, 
A  great  divine,  and  I'm  a  great  profane. 
You  as  a  Congregationalist  blink 

Some  certain  truths  that  I  esteem  a  gain, 
And  drop  them  in  the  coffers  of  my  brain, 
Pleased  with  the  pretty  music  of  their  chink. 
Perhaps  your  spiritual  wealth  is  such 
A  golden  truth  or  two  don't  count  for  much. 

You  say  that  you've  no  patience  with  such  stuff 
As  by  Renan  is  writ,  and  when  3'ou  read 

(Why  do  you  read?)  have  hardly  strength  enough 
To  hold  your  hand  from  flinging  the  vile  screed 
Into  the  fire.  That  were  a  wasteful  deed 

Which  you'd  repent  in  sackcloth  extra  rough  ; 

For  books  cost  money,  and  I'm  told  you  care 

To  lay  up  treasures  Here  as  well  as  There. 

I  fear,  good,  pious  soul,  that  you  mistake 
Your  thrift  for  toleration.     Never  mind  : 

Renan  in  any  case  would  hardly  break 
His  great,  strong,  charitable  heart  to  find 
The  bats  and  owls  of  your  myopic  kind 

Pained  by  the  light  that  his  ideas  make. 

'Tis  Truth's  best  purpose  to  shine  in  at  holes 

Where  cower  the  Kembles,  to  confound  their  souls  ! 


126  BLACK  BEETLES  IX  AMBER 


A    WORD    TO    THE    UNWISE 

[Charles  Main, of  the  firm  of  Main  &  Winchester,  has  ordered 
a  grand  mausoleum  for  his  plot  in  Mountain  View  Cemetery. — 
City  Newspaper.] 

/CHARLES  MAIN,  of  Main  &  Winchester,  attend 
^— '     With  friendly  ear  the  chit-chat  of  a  friend 

Who  knows  you  not,  j*et  knows  that  you  and  he 
Travel  two  roads  that  have  a  common  end. 

We  journey  forward  through  the  time  allowed. 
I  humbly  bending,  yon  erect  and  proud. 

Our  heads  alike  will  stable  soon  the  worm— 
The  one  that's  lifted,  and  the  one  that's  bowed. 

You  in  your  mausoleum  shall  repose, 
I  where  it  pleases  Him  who  sleep  bestows  ; 
What  matter  whether  one  so  little  worth 
Shall  stain  the  marble  or  shall  feed  the  rose? 

Charles  Main,  I  had  a  friend  who  died  one  day. 
A  metal  casket  held  his  honored  clay. 

Of  cyclopean  architecture  stood 
The  splendid  vault  where  he  was  laid  away. 

A  dozen  years,  and  lo  !    the  roots  of  grass 
Had  burst  asunder  all  the  joints  ;  the  brass, 


JJL  A  CK  JU-J-:  TL  ES  IX  A  MBER  1 27 

The  gilded  ornaments,  the  carven  stones 
Lay  tumbled  all  together  in  a  mass. 

A  dozen  years  !    That  taxes  your  belief. 
Make  it  a  thousand  if  the  time's  too  brief. 

'Twill  be  the  same  to  you  ;   when  you  are  dead 
You  cannot  even  count  your  days  of  grief. 

Suppose  a  pompous  monument  you  raise 
Till  on  its  peak  the  solar  splendor  blaze 

While  yet  about  its  base  the  night  is  black  ; 
But  will  it  give  }-our  glory  length  of  days  ? 

Say,  when  beneath  your  rubbish  has  been  thrown, 
Some  rogue  to  reputation  all  unknown — 

Men's  backs  being  turned — should  lift  his  thiev 
ing  hand, 
Efface  your  name  and  substitute  his  own. 

Whose  then  would  be  the  monument?     To  whom 
Would  be  the  fame  ?    Forgotten  in  your  gloom, 

Your  very  name  forgotten — ah,  my  friend, 
The  name  is  all  that's  rescued  by  the  tomb. 

For  memory  of  worth  and  work  we  go 
To  other  records  than  a  stone  can  show. 

These  lacking,  naught  remains  ;  with  these 
The  stone  is  needless  for  the  world  will  know, 

Then  build  your  mausoleum  if  you  must, 
And  creep  into  it  with  a  perfect  trust ; 

But  in  the  twinkling  of  an  eye  the  plow 
Shall  pass  without  obstruction  through  your  dust 


128  BLACK  BEETLES  IN  AMBER 

Another  movement  of  the  pendulum, 
And,  lo  !   the  desert-haunting  wolf  shall  come, 
And,  seated  on  the  spot,  shall  howl  by  night 
O'er  rotting  cities,  desolate  and  dumb. 


ON   THE   PLATFORM 

WHEN  Dr.  Bill  Bartlett  stepped  out  of  the  hum 
Of  Mammon's  distracting  and  wearisome  strife 
To  stand  and  deliver  a  lecture  on  "  Some 

Conditions  of  Intellectual  Life, '  ' 
I  cursed  the  offender  who  gave  him  the  hall 
To  lecture  on  any  conditions  at  all  ! 

But  he  rose  wyith  a  fire  divine  in  his  eye, 

Haranguing  with  endless  abundance  of  breath. 

Till  I  slept ;  and  I  dreamed  of  a  gibbet  reared  high, 
And  Dr.  Bill  Bartlett  was  dressing  for  death. 

And  I  thought  in  my  dream:    "These  conditions,  no 
doubt, 

Are  bad  for  the  life  he  was  talking  about." 

So  I  cried  (pray  remember  this  all  was  a  dream)  : 

"  Get  off  of  the  platform  !— it  isn't  the  kind!" 

But  he  fell  through  the  trap,  with  a  jerk  at  the  beam, 

And  wiggled  his  toes  to  unburden  his  mind. 
And,  O,  so  bewitching  the  thoughts  he  advanced, 
That  I  clung  to  his  ankles,  attentive,  entranced ! 


BLACK  BEETLES  IN  AMBER  129 


A    DAMPENED    ARDOR 

THE  Chinatown  at  Bakersfielcl 
Was  blazing  bright  and  high  ; 
The  flames  to  water  would  not  yiel'd, 
Though  torrents  drenched  the  sky 
And  drowned  the  ground  for  miles  around— 
The  houses  were  so  dry. 

Then  rose  an  aged  preacher  man 

Whom  all  did  much  admire, 
Who  said:   <(  To  force  on  you  my  plan 

I  truly  don't  aspire, 
But  streams,  it  seems,  might  quench  these  beams 

If  turned  upon  the  fire." 

The  fireman  said  :   ' '  This  hoary  wight 

His  folly  dares  to  thrust 
On  its  !     'Twere  well  he  felt  our  might — 

Xay,  he  shall  feel  our  must !  " 
With  jet  of  wet  and  small  regret 

They  laid  that  old  man's  dust. 


ADAIR   WELCKER,    POET 

The  Swan  of  Avon  died — the  Swan 
Of  Sacramento' 11  soon  be  gone  ; 
And  when  his  death-song  he  shall  coo, 
Stand  back,  or  it  will  kill  you  too. 


i3o  BLACK  BEETLES  IN  AMBER 


TO   A   WORD-WARRIOR 

FRANK  PIXLEY,  you,  who  kiss  the  hand 
That  strove  to  cut  the  country's  throat. 
Cannot  forgive  the  hands  that  smote 
Applauding  in  a  distant  land, — 

Applauding  carelessly,  as  one 

The  weaker  willing  to  befriend 

Until  the  quarrel's  at  an  end, 
Then  learn  bv  whom  it  was  begun. 


b 


When  North  was  pitted  against  South 
Non-combatants  on  either  side 
In  calculating  fury  vied, 

And  fought  their  foes  by  word  of  mouth. 

That  devil's-camisade  you  led 
With  formidable  feats  of  tongue. 
Upon  the  battle's  rear  you  hung — 

With  Samson's  weapon  slew  the  dead ! 

So  hot  the  ardor  of  your  soul 
That  every  fierce  civilian  came, 
His  torch  to  kindle  at  your  flame, 

Or  have  you  blow  his  cooling  coal. 

Men  prematurely  left  their  beds 

And  sought  the  gelid  bath — so  great 
The  heat  and  splendor  of  your  hate 

Of  Englishmen  and  "Copperheads." 


HLACK  BEETLES  IN  AMBER  131 

King  Liar  of  deceitful  men, 

For  imposition  doubly  armed  ! 

The  patriots  whom  your  speaking  charmed 
You  stung  to  madness  with  your  pen. 

There  was  a  certain  journal  here, 
Its  English  owner  growing  rich — 
Your  hand  the  treason  wrote  for  which 

A  mob  cut  short  its  curst  career. 

If,  Pixley,  you  had  not  the  brain 
To  know  the  true  from  false,  or  you 
To  Truth  had  courage  to  be  true, 

And  loyal  to  her  perfect  reign  ; 

If  you  had  not  your  powers  arrayed 
To  serve  the  wrong  by  tricksy  speech, 
Xor  pushed  }Tourself  within  the  reach 

Of  retribution's  accolade, 

I  had  not  had  the  will  to  go 

Outside  the  olive-bordered  path 

Of  peace  to  cut  the  birch  of  wrath, 
And  strip  your  body  for  the  blow. 

behold  how  dark  the  war-clouds  rise 

About  the  mother  of  our  race  ! 

The  lightnings  gild  her  tranquil  face 
.And  glitter  in  her  patient  eyes. 

Her  children  throng  the  hither  flood 

And  lean  intent  above  the  beach. 

Their  beating  hearts  inhibit  speech 
With  stifling  tides  of  English  blood. 


2  BLACK  BEETLES  IN  AMBER 

' '  Their  skies,  but  not  their  hearts,  the}-  change 
Who  go  in  ships  across  the  sea"  — 
Through  all  centuries  to  be 
The  strange  new  land  will  still  be  strange. 

The  Island  Mother  holds  in  gage 
The  souls  of  sons  she  never  saw  ; 
Superior  to  law,  the  law 

Of  sympathetic  heritage. 

Forgotten  now  the  foolish  reign 

Of  wrath  which  sundered  trivial  ties. 
A  soldier's  sabre  vainl}-  tries 

To  cleave  a  spiritual  chain. 

The  iron  in  our  blood  affines, 

Though  fratricidal  hands  may  »spill. 
Shall  Hate  be  throned  on  Bunker  Hill, 

Yet  Love  abide  at  Seven  Pines  ? 


A   CULINARY   CANDIDATE 

A  cook  adorned  \vith  paper  cap, 

Or  waiter  \vith  a  tray, 
May  be  a  worthy  kind  of  chap 

In  his  way, 

But  when  \ve  want  one  for  Recorder, 
Then,  Mr.  Walton,  take  our  order. 


ULACK  BEETLES  IN  AMBER 


THE    OLEOMARGARINE    MAX 

ONCE — in  the  county  of  Marin, 
Where  milk  is  sold  to  purchase  gin- 
Renowned  for  butter  and  renowned 
For  fourteen  ounces  to  the  pound — 
A  bull  stood  watching  every  turn 
Of  Mr.  Wilson  with  a  churn, 
As  that  deigning  worthy  stalked 
About  him,  eying  as  he  walked, 
El  Toro's  sleek'and  silken  hide, 
His  neck,  his  flank  and  all  beside  ; 
Thinking  with  secret  joy  :    "I'll  spread 
That  mammal  on  a  slice  of  bread  '  " 

Soon  Mr.  Wilson's  keen  concern 
To  get  the  creature  in  his  churn 
Unhorsed  his  caution — made  him  blind 
To  the  fell  vigor  of  btillkind, 
Till,  filled  with  valor  to  the  teeth, 
He  drew  his  dasher  from  its  sheath 
And  bravely  brandished  it ;  the  while 
He  smiled  a  dark,  portentous  smile  ; 
A  deep,  sepulchral  smile  ;  a  wide 
And  open  smile,  which,  at  his  side, 
The  churn  to  copy  vainly  tried  ; 
A  smile  so  like  the  dawn  of  doom 
That  all  the  field  was  palled  in  gloom, 
And  all  the  trees  within  a  mile, 


154  BLACK  BEETLES  IN  AMBER 

As  tribute  to  that  awful  smile, 
Made  haste,  with  loyalty  discreet, 
To  fling  their  shadows  at  his  feet. 
Then  rose  his  battle-cry  :   "I'll  spread 
That  mammal  on  a  slice  of  bread  !  " 

To  such  a  night  the  day  had  turned 
That  Taurus  dimly  was  discerned. 
He  wore  so  meek  and  grave  an  air 
It  seemed  as  if,  engaged  in  prayer 
This  thunderbolt  incarnate  had 
No  thought  of  anything  that's  bad  : 
This  concentrated  earthquake  stood 
And  gave  his  mind  to  being  good. 
Lightly  and  low  he  drew  his  breath— 
This  magazine  of  sudden  death  ! 
All  this  the  thrifty  Wilson's  glance 
Took  in,  and,  crying,  "Now's  my  chance 
Upon  the  bull  he  sprang  amain 
To  put  him  in  his  churn.     Again 
Rang  out  his  battle-yell :   "I'll  spread 
That  mammal  on  a  slice  of  bread  ! ' ' 

Sing,  Muse,  that  battle-royal — sing 
The  deeds  that  made  the  region  ring, 
The  blows,  the  bellowing,  the  cries, 
The  dust  that  darkened  all  the  skies, 

The  thunders  of  the  contest,  all 

Nay,  none  of  these  things  did  befall. 
A  yell  there  was — a  rush — no  more  : 
HI  Tofo,  tranquil  as  before, 
Still  stood  there  basking  in  the  sun, 


BLACK  BEETLES  IN  AMBER  135 

Nor  of  his  legs  had  shifted  one — 
Stood  there  and  conjured  up  his  cud 
And  meekly  munched  it.     Scenes  of  blood 
Had  little  charm  for  him.     His  head 
He  merely  nodded  as  he  said : 
I've  spread  that  butterman  upon 
A  slice  of  Southern  Oregon." 


GENESIS 

C^  OD  said,    "Let  there  be  Crime,"  and  the  com 
mand 

Brought  Satan,  leading  Stonetnan  by  the  hand. 
"  Why,  that's  Stupidity,  not  Crime,"  said  God — 
"  Bring  what  I  ordered."  Satan  with  a  nod 

Replied,  "This  is  one  element — when  I 

The  other — Opportunity — supply 

In  just  equivalent,  the  t\vo'll  affine 

And  in  a  chemical  embrace  combine 

And  Crime  result — for  Crime  can  only  be 

Stupiditate  of  Opportunity. " 

So  leaving  Stoneman  (not  as  yet  endowed 

With  soul)  in  special  session  on  a  cloud, 

Nick  to  his  sooty  laboratory  went, 

Returning  soon  with  t'other  element. 
"  Here's  Opportunity,"  he  said,  and  put 

Pen,  ink,  and  paper  down  at  Stoneman's  foot. 

He  seized  them — Heaven  was  filled  with  fires  and 
thunders, 

And  Crime  was  added  to  Creation's  wonders  ! 


BLACK  BEETLES  IN  A3WER 


LLEWELLEX   POWELL 

T  TILLAIN,  when  the  word  is  spoken, 
^     And  your  chains  at  last  are  broken 

When  the  gibbet's  chilling  shade 
Ceases  darkly  to  enfold  you, 
And  the  angel  who  enrolled  yon 

As  a  master  of  the  trade 
Of  assassination  sadly 

Blots  the  record  he  has  made, 
And  your  name  and  title  paints 
In  the  calendar  of  saints  ; 
When  the  devils,  dancing  madly 
In  the  midmost  Hell,  are  very 
Multitudinously  merry — 
Then  beware,  beware,  bewrare  !•— 
Nemesis  is  everywhere ! 
You  shall  hear  her  at  your  back, 

And,  your  hunted  visage  turning, 

Fancy  that  her  eyes  are  burning 
Like  a  tiger's  on  your  track  ! 
You  shall  hear  her  in  the  breeze 
Whispering  to  summer  trees. 
You  shall  hear  her  calling,  calling 

To  your  spirit  through  the  storm 

When  the  giant  billo\vs  form 
And  the  splintered  lightning,  falling 
Down  the  heights  of  Heaven,  appalling, 
Splendors  all  the  tossing  seas ! 
On  your  bed  at  night  reclining, 


BLACK  BEETLES  IN  AMBER  137 

Stars  into  your  chamber  shining1 

As  they  roll  around  the  Pole, 
None  their  purposes  divining, 

Shall  appear  to  search  your  soul, 
And  to  gild  the  mark  of  Cain 
That  burns  into  your  tortured  brain  ! 
And  the  dead  man's  eyes  shall  ever 

Meet  your  own  wherever  you, 

Desperate,  shall  turn  you  to, 
And  you  shall  escape  them  never  ! 

By  your  heritage  of  guilt ; 
By  the  blood  that  you  have  spilt  ; 
By  the  Law  that  you  have  broken  ; 
By  the  terrible  red  token 

That  you  bear  upon  3*our  brow  ; 
By  the  awful  sentence  spoken 

And  irrevocable  vow 
Which  consigns  you  to  a  living 
Death  and  to  the  unforgiving 
Furies  who  avenge  your  crime 
Through  the  periods  of  time  ; 
By  that  dread  eternal  doom 
Hinted  in  your  future's  gloom, 

As  the  flames  infernal  tell 
Of  their  power  and  perfection 
In  their  wavering  reflection 

On  the  battlements  of  Hell ; 
By  the  mercy  3-011  denied, 

I  condemn  your  guilty  soul 
In  your  body  to  abide, 

Like  a  serpent  in  a  hole  ! 


138  BLACK  BEETLES  IN  AMBER 


o 


THE   SUNSET   GUN, 

FF  Santa  Cruz  the  western  wave 

Was  crimson  as  with  blood  : 
The  sun  was  sinking  to  his  grave 
Beneath  that  angry  flood. 


Sir  Walter  Turnbull,  brave  and  stout, 
Then  shouted,    ' '  Ho  !  lads  ;  run — 

The  powder  and  the  ball  bring  out 
To  fire  the  sunset  gun. 

1  That  punctual  orb  did  ne'er  omit 

To  keep,  by  land  or  sea, 
Its  every  engagement  ;  it 
Shall  never  wait  for  me." 

Behold  the  black-mouthed  cannon  stand. 
Ready  with  charge  and  prime, 

The  lanyard  in  the  gunner's  hand. 
Sir  Walter  waits  the  time. 

The  glowing  orb  sinks  in  the  sea, 

And  clouds  of  steam  aspire, 
Then  fade,  and  the  horizon's  free. 

Sir  Walter  thunders  :   "Fire  !  " 

The  gunner  pulls — the  lanyard  parts 

And  not  a  sound  ensues. 
The  beating  of  ten  thousand  hearts 

Was  heard  at  Santa  Cruz  ! 


BLACK  BEETLES  IX  AMBER  139 

Off  Santa  Cruz  the  western  wave 

Was  crimson  as  with  blood  ; 
The  sun,  with  visage  stern  and  grave, 

Came  back  from  out  the  flood. 


THE    "YIDUATK    DAMIv " 

S  the  widow  of  Thomas  Blythe, 
And  she  goeth  upon  the  spree, 
And  red  are  cheeks  of  the  bystanders 
For  her  acts  are  licrht  and  free. 


In  a  seven-ounce  costume 

The  widow  of  Thomas  Blythc, 

Y-perched  high  011  the  window  ledge, 
The  difficult  can-can  tryeth. 

Ten  constables  they  essay 
To  bate  the  dame's  halloing. 

With  the  widow  of  Thomas  Blythe 
Their  hands  are  overflowing 


And  they  cry  :    ' '  Call  the  National  Guard 

To  quell  this  parlous  muss — 
For  all  of  the  widows  of  Thomas  Blythe 

Are  upon  the  spree  and  us  !  " 

O  long  shall  the  eerie  tale  be  told 
By  that  posse's  surviving  tithe  ; 

And  with  tears  bedewed  he'll  sing  this  rude 
Ballad  of  the  widow  of  Thomas  Blythc. 


i4o  BLACK  BEETLES  IN  AMBER 


D 


FOUR    OF   A    KTXD 


ROBERT    F.    3IORROW 

KAR  man  !  although  a  stranger  raid  a  foe 


To  soft  affection's  humanizing  glow  ; 
Although  untaught  how  manly  hearts  may  thn/b 
With  more  desires  than  the  desire  to  rob ; 
Although  as  void  of  tenderness  as  wit, 
And  owning  nothing  soft  but  Maurice  SchmiU 
Although  polluted,  shunned  and  in  disgrace, 
You  fill  me  with  a  passion  to  embrace  ! 
Attentive  to  your  look,  your  smile,  your  beck, 
I  watch  and  wait  to  fall  upon  your  neck. 
Lord  of  my  love,  and  idol  of  my  hope, 
You  are  my  Valentine,  and  I'm 

A  ROPE. 

ALFRED    CLARKE    JR. 

Illustrious  son  of  an  illustrious  sire- 
Entrusted  with  the  duty  to  cry  "  Fire  !  " 
And  call  the  engines  out,  exert  your  power 
With  care.     When,  looking  from  }*our  lofty  tower, 
You  see  a  ruddy  light  on  every  wall, 
Pause  for  a  moment  ere  you  sound  the  call : 
It  may  be  from  a  fire,  it  may  be,  too, 
From  good  men's  blushes  when  they  think  of  you. 

JUDGE    RUTLEDGE 

Sultan  of  Stupids  !  with  enough  of  brains 
To  go  indoors  in  all  uncommon  rains. 


BLACK  BEETLES  IN  AMBER  141 

But  not  enough  to  stay  there  when  the  storm 
Is  past.     When  all  the  world  is  dry  and  warm, 
In  irking  comfort,  lamentably  gay, 
Keeping  the  evil  tenor  of  your  waj', 
You  walk  abroad,  sweet,  beautiful  and  smug, 
And  Justice  hears  you  with  her  wonted  shrug, 
Lifts  her  broad  bandage  half-an-inch  and  keeps 
One  eye  upon  you  while  the  other  weeps. 

w.  ii.  L.   EARXES 

Happy  the  man  who  sin's  proverbial  wage 
Receives  on  the  instalment  plan — in  age. 
For  him  the  bulldog  pistol's  honest  bark 
Has  naught  cf  terror  in  its  blunt  remark. 
He  looks  with  calmness  on  the  gleaming  steel— 
If  e'er  it  touched  his  heart  he  did  not  feel : 
Superior  hardness  turned  its  point  away, 
Though  urged  by  fond  affinity  to  stay  ; 
His  bloodless  veins  ignored  the  futile  stroke,, 
And  moral  mildew  kept  the  cut  in  cloak. 
Happy  the  man,  I  say,  to  whom  the  wage 
Of  sin  has  been  commuted  into  age. 
Yet  not  quite  happy — hark,  that  horrid  cry  ! — 
His  cruel  mirror  wounds  him  in  the  eve  ! 


RECONCILIATION 

Stanford  and  Huntington,  so  long  at  outs, 
Kissed  and  made  up.     If  you  have  any  doubts 
Dismiss  them,  for  I  saw  them  do  it.  man; 
And  then — why,  then  I  clutched  my  purse  and  ran. 


142  BLACK  BEETLES  IN  AMBER 


A   VISION    OF    CLIMATE 

T  DREAMED  that  I  was  poor  and  sick  and  sad, 
-L     Broken  in  hope  and  weary  of  1113-  life  ; 
My  ventures  all  miscarrying — naught  had 

For  all  my  labor  in  the  heat  and  strife. 

And  in  my  heart  some  certain  thoughts  were  rife: 
Of  an  unsummoned  exit.     As  I  Ia3~ 

Considering  my  bitter  state,  I  cried : 
"  Alas  !  that  hither  I  did  ever  stray. 

Better  in  some  fair  country  to  have  died 
Than  live  in  such  a  land,  where  Fortune  never 
(Unless  he  be  successful)  crowns  Endeavor." 

Then,  even  as  I  lamented,  lo  !  there  came 

A  troop  of  Presences — I  knew  not  whence 
Nor  what  they  were  :  thought  cannot  rightly  name 
What's  known  through  spiritual  evidence, 
Reported  not  by  gross  material  sense. 
"  Why   come   3-6  here?"    I  seemed   to   cry    (though 

naught 

M3r  sleeping  tongue  did  utter)  to  the  first — 
1 '  What  are  3re  ? — with  what  w  of  til  message  fraught  ? 

Ye  have  a  ghastly  look,  as  ye  had  burst 
Some  sepulcher  in  memory.     Weird  creatures, 
I'm  sure  I'd  know  3*011  if  ye  had  but  features." 

vSome  subtle  organ  noted  the  reply 

(Inaudible  to  ear  of  flesh  the  tone)  : 
""The  Finest  Climate  in  the  World  a::i  I, 


BLACK  BEETLES  IX  AMBER  143 

From  Siskiyou  to  San  Diego  known — 

From  the  Sierra  to  the  sea.     The  zone 
Called  semi-tropical  I've  pulled  about 

And  placed  it  where  it  does  most  good,  I  trust. 
I  shake  my  never-failing  bounty  out 

Alike  upon  the  just  and  the  unjust.' ' 
That's  very  true,"  said  I,  "  but  when  'tis  shaken 
My  share  by  the  unjust  is  ever  taken." 

Permit  me,"  it  resumed,  "  now  to  present 
My  eldest  son,  the  Champagne  Atmosphere, 

And  others  to  rebuke  your  discontent — 

The  Mammoth  Squash,  Stra \vbcrry  All  the  Year, 
The  fair  No  Lightning — flashing  only  here— 

The  Wholesome  Earthquake  and  Italian  Sky, 
With  its  Unstriking  Sun;  and  last,  not  least, 

The  Compos  Mentis  Dog.     Now,  ingrate,  try 
To  bring  a  better  stomach  to  the  feast : 

When  Nature  makes  a  dance  and  pays  the  piper, 

To  be  unhappy  is  to  be  a  viper  ! ' ' 

Why,  yet,"  said  I,  "with  all  your  blessings  fine 
(And  Heaven  forbid  that  I  should  speak  them  ill) 

I  yet  am  poor  and  sick  and  sad.     Ye  shine 
With  more  of  splendor  than  of  heat :  for  still, 
Although  my  will  is  warm,  my  bones  are  chill." 

Then  warm  you  with  enthusiasm's  blaze — 

Fortune  waits  not  on  toil,"   they  cried;    "O  then 

Join  the  \vild  chorus  clamoring  our  praise — 

Throw  up  your  beaver  and  throw  down  you  pen  ! ' ' 

Begone!"   I  shouted.     They  be\vent,  a-smirking, 

And  I,  awakening,  fell  straight  a- working. 


144  BLACK  BEETLES  IN  AMBER 


A    "MASS11    MEETING 

TT  was  a  solemn  rite  as  e'er 
*-     Was  seen  by  mortal  man. 
The  celebrants,  the  people  there, 
Were  all  Republican. 

There  Estee  bent  his  grizzled  head, 

And  General  Dimond,  too, 
And  one — 'twas  Reddick,  some  one  said 

Though  no  one  clearly  knew. 

I  saw  the  priest,  white-robed  and  tall 

(Assistant,  Father  Stow) — 
He  was  the  pious  man  men  call 

Dan  Burns  of  Mexico. 

Ah,  'twas  a  high  and  holy  rite 

As  any  one  could  swear. 
"  What  does  it  mean?  "   I  asked  a  wight 
Who  knelt  apart  in  prayer. 

"  A  mass  for  the  repose,"  he  said, 

"  Of  Colonel  Markham's" "What, 

Is  gallant  Colonel  Markham  dead  ? 
'Tis  sad,  'tis  sad,  God  wot !  " 

"  A  mass  " — repeated  he,  and  rose 

To  go  and  kneel  among 
The  \vorshipers — "  for  the  repose 
Of  Colonel  Markham's  tongue." 


BLACK  BEETLES  IN  AMBER  145 


FOR    PRESIDENT,    ICELAND   STANFORD 

MAHOMET  STANFORD,  with  covetous  stare, 
Gazed  on  a  vision  surpassingly  fair  : 
Far  on  the  desert's  remote  extreme 
A  mountain  of  gold  with  a  mellow  gleam 
Reared  its  high  pinnacles  into  the  sky, 
The  work  of  mirage  to  delude  the  eye. 
Pixley  Pasha,  at  the  Prophet's  feet 
Piously  licking  them,  swearing  them  sweet, 
Ventured,  observing  his  master's  glance, 
To  beg  that  he  order  the  mountain's  advance, 
Mahomet  Stanford  exerted  his  will, 
Commanding  :      "In  Allah's  name,  hither,  hill  !  " 
Never  an  inch  the  mountain  came. 
Mahomet  Stanford,  with  face  aflame, 
Lifted  his  foot  and  kicked,  alack  ! 
Pixley  Pasha  on  the  end  of  the  back. 
Mollified  thus  and  smiling  free, 
He  said  :    ' '  Since  the  mountain  won 't  come  to  me, 
I'll  go  to  the  mountain.' '     With  infinite  pains, 
Camels  in  caravans,  negroes  in  trains, 
Warriors,  workmen,  women,  and  fools, 
Food  and  water  and  mining  tools 
He  gathered  about  him,  a  mighty  array, 
And  the  journey  began  at  the  close  of  day. 
All  night  they  traveled — at  early  dawn 


146  BLACK  BEETLES  IN  AVBEK 

Many  a  wearisome  league  had  gone. 
Morning  broke  fair  with  a  golden  sheen, 
Mountain,  alas,  was  nowhere  seen  ! 
Mahomet  Stanford  pounded  his  breast, 
Pixley  Pasha  he  thus  addressed  : 
"  Dog  of  mendacity,  cheat  and  slave, 

May  jackasses  sing  o'er  your  grandfather's  grave 


FOR    MAYOR 

OABXER  DOBLK— whose  "  catarrhal  name" 
Budd  of  that  ilk  might  envy — 'tis  a  rough 
Rude  thing  to  say,  but  it  is  plain  enough 
Your  name  is  to  be  sneezed  at :   its  acclaim 
Will  "fill  the  speaking  trump  of  future  fame  " 
With  an  impeded  utterance — a  puff 
Suggesting  that  a  pinch  or  tw7o  of  snuff 
Would  clear  the  tube  and  somewhat  disinname. 
Nay,  Abner  Doble,  you'll  not  get  from  me 
My  voice  and  influence :  I'll  cheer  instead, 

Some  other  man  ;  for  when  my  voice  ascends  a 
Tall  pinnacle  of  praise,  and  at  high  C 

Sustains  a  chosen  name,  it  shan't  be  said 
My  influence  is  naught  but  influenza. 


VLACK  UEETLES  IN  AM  HER  147 


A    CHEATING   PREACHER 

A  /TUNHALL,  to  save  my  soul  you  bravely  try, 

-^»JL     Although,  to  save  my  soul,  I  can't  say  why 

'Tis  naught  to  you,  to  me  however  much — 

Why,  bless  it !  you  might  save  a  million  such 

Yet  lose  your  own  ;  for  still  the  "  means  of  grace  " 

That  you  employ  to  turn  us  from  the  place 

By  the  arch-enemy  of  souls  frequented 

Are  those  which  to  ensnare  us  he  invented  ! 

I  do  not  say  you  utter  falsehoods — I 

Would  scorn  to  give  to  ministers  the  lie  : 

The}7"  cannot  fight — their  calling  has  estopped  it. 

True,  I  did  not  persuade  them  to  adopt  it. 

But,  Munhall,  when  3-011  say  the  Devil  dwells 

In  all  the  breasts  of  all  the  infidels — 

Making  a  lot  of  individual  Hells 

In  gentlemen  instinctively  who  shrink 

From  thinking  anything  that  you  could  think. 

You  talk  as  I  should  if  some  world  I  trod 

Where  lying  is  acceptable  to  God. 

I  don't  at  all  object — forbid  it  Heaven  ! — 

That  3'oi:r  discourse  you  temperately  leaven 

With  airy  reference  to  wicked  souls 

Cursing  impenitent  on  glowing  coals, 

Xor  quarrel  with  your  fancy,  blithe  and  fine, 

Which  represents  the  wickedest  as  mine. 

Each  ornament  of  style  my  spirit  eases  : 


148  11  LACK  BEETLES  IN  AMBER 

The  subject  saddens,  but  the  manner  pleases. 

But  when  you   "deal  damnation  round"  'twere  sweet 

To  think  hereafter  that  you  did  not  cheat. 

Deal,  and  let  all  accept  what  you  allot  'em. 

But,  blast  you  !  you  are  dealing  from  the  bottom  ! 


A    CROCODILE 

NAY,   Peter  Robertson,  'tis  not  for  you 
To  blubber  o'er  Max  Taubles  for  he's  dead. 
By  Heaven  !  my  hearty,  if  you  only  knew 
How  better  is  a  grave-worm  in  the  head 
Than  brains  like  yours — how  far  more  decent,  too, 

A  tomb  in  far  Corea  than  a  bed 
Where  Peter  lies  with  Peter,  you  would  covet 
His  happier  state  and,  dying,  learn  to  love  it. 

In  the  recesses  of  the  silent  tomb 

No   Maunderings   of  yours  disturb  the  peace. 
Your  mental  bag-pipe,  droning  like  the  gloom 

Of  Hades  audible,  perforce  must  cease 
From  troubling  further  ;  and  that  crack  o'  doom, 

Your  mouth,  shaped  like  a  long  bow,  shall  release 
In  vain  such  shafts  of  wit  as  it  can  utter — 
The  ear  of  death  can't  even  hear  them  flutter. 


BLACK  BEETLES  IN  AMBER  149 


THE   AMERICAN    PARTY 

OH,  MARCUS  D.  BORUCK,  me  hearty, 
I  sympathize  wid  ye,  poor  lad  ! 
A  man  that's  shot  out  of  his  party 
Is  mighty  onlucky,  bedad  ! 
An'  the  sowl  o'  that  man  is  sad. 

But,  Marcus,  gossoon,  ye  desarve  it— 
Ye  know  for  yerself  that  ye  do, 

For  ye  j'ined  not  intendin'  to  sarve  it, 
But  liopin'  to  make  it  sarve  you, 
Though  the  roll  of  its  members  \vuz  two. 

The  other  wuz  Pixley,  an'  "  Surely," 
Ye  said,  "he's  a  kite  that  wall  sail." 

An'  so  ye  hung  till  him  securely, 
Enactin'  the  role  of  a  tail. 
But  there  wuzn't  the  ghost  of  a  gale  ! 

But  the  party  to-day  has  behind  it 

A  powerful  backin',  I'm  told  ; 
rAor  just  enough  Irish  have  j'ined  it 

(An'  I'm  m'anin'  to  be  enrolled) 

To  kick  ye  out  into  the  cold. 

It's  hard  on  ye,  darlint,  I'm  thinkin' — 
So  young — so  American,  too — 


150  DL  A  CK  BEE  TL ES  AV  A MBER 

Wid  bypassers  grinnin'  an'  winkin', 
An'  sayin',  wid  ref'rence  to  }TOU  : 
' (  Get  onto  the  murtherin'  Joo  ! ' ' 

Republicans  never  will  take  ye — 
They  had  ye  for  many  a  year  ; 

An'  Dimocrats — angels  forsake  ye  I— 
If  ever  ye  come  about  here 
We'll  brand  ye  and  scollop  yer  ear! 


UNCOLOXEIvKD 

war-signs  fail  i:i  time  of  peace,  they  say 
Two  awful  portents  gloom  the  public  mind  : 
All  Mexico  is  arming  for  the  fray 

And  Colonel  Mark  McDonald  has  resigned  ! 

We  know  not  by  what  instinct  he  divined 
The  coming  trouble — may  be,  like  the  steed 

Described  by  Job,  he  smelled  the  fight  afar. 
Howe'er  it  be, he  left,  and  for  that  deed 

Is  an  aspirant  to  the  G.  A.  R. 
When  cannon  flame  along  the  Rio  Grande 
A  citizen's  commission  will  be  handy. 


2JLACK  LEE  TEES  IN  AMBER  151 


THE   GATES   AJAR 

E  Day  of  Judgment  spread  its  glare 
-*-       O'er  continents  and  seas. 
The  graves  cracked  open  everywhere. 
Like  pods  of  early  peas. 

T'p  to  the  Court  of  Heaven  sped 

The  souls  of  all  mankind  ; 
Republicans  were  at  the  head 

And  Democrats  behind. 

Reub.  Lloyd  was  there  before  the  tube 

Of  Gabriel  could  call : 
The  dead  in  Christ  rise  first,  and  Reub. 

Had  risen  first  of  all. 

He  sat  beside  the  Throne  of  Flame 

As,  to  the  trumpet's  sound, 
Four  statesmen  of  the  Party  came 

And  ranged  themselves  around — 

Pure  spirits  shining  like  the  sun, 
From  taint  and  blemish  free — 

Great  William  Stow  was  there  for  one, 
And  George  A.  Knight  for  three. 


BLACK  BEETLES  IN  AMBER 

Souls  less  indubitably  white 

Approached  with  anxious  air, 
Judge  Blake  at  head  of  them  by  right 

Of  having  been  a  Mayor. 

His  ermine  he  had  donned  again, 

Long  laid  away  in  gums. 
'Tvvas  soiled  a  trifle  by  the  stains 

Of  politicians'  thumbs. 

Then  Knight  addressed  the  Judje  of  Heaven 
"  Your  Honor,  would  it  trench 
On  custom  here  if  Blake  were  given 
A  seat  upon  the  Bench  ? ' ' 

;Twas  done.      "Tom  Shannon  !  "   Peter  cried. 

He  came,  without  ado, 
In  forma  pauperis  was  tried, 

And  was  acquitted,  too  ! 

Stow  rose,  remarking  :   "1  concur." 

Lloyd  added  :    "That  suits  us. 
I  move  Tom's  nomination,  sir, 

Be  made  unanimous." 


BEETLES  IN  AMtthK  153 


TIDINGS   OF   GOOD 

OLD  Nick  from  his  place  of  last  resort 
Came  up  and  looked  the  world  over. 
He  saw  how  the  grass  of  the  good  was  short 
And  the  wicked  lived  in  clover. 

And  he  gravely  said  :   "  This  is  all,  all  wrong, 

And  never  by  me  intended. 
If  to  me  the  power  should  ever  belong 

I  shall  have  this  thing  amended." 

He  looked  so  solemn  and  good  and  wise 

As  he  made  this  observation 
That  the  men  who  heard  him  believed  their  eves 

Instead  of  his  reputation. 

So  they  bruited  the  matter  about,  and  each 

Reported  the  words  as  nearly 
As  memory  served — with  additional  speech 

To  bring  out  the  meaning  clearly. 

The  consequence  was  that  none  understood, 

And  the  wildest  rumors  started 
Of  something  intended  to  help  the  good 

And  injure  the  evil-hearted. 


154  BLACK  BEETLES  IN  AMBER 

Then  Robert  Morrow  was  seen  to  sinile 

With  a  bright  and  lively  joyance. 
"  A  man,"  said  he,  "  that  is  free  from  guile 
Will  now  bs  free  from  annoyance. 

"  The  Featherstones  doubtless  will  no\v  increas- 

And  multiply  like  the  rabbits, 
While  jailers,  deputy  sheriffs,  police, 
And  writers  will  form  good  habits. 

"  The  widows  more  easily  robbed  will  be, 

And  no  juror  will  ever  heed  'em, 
But  open  his  purse  to  my  eloquent  plea 
For  security,  gain,  or  freedom." 

When  Benson  heard  of  the  luck  of  the  good 
(He  was  eating  his  dinner)  he  muttered  : 
s<  It  cannot  help  me,  for  'tis  understood 
My  bread  is  already  buttered. 

"  My  plats  of  surveys  are  all  false,  they  say, 

But  that  cannot  greatly  matter 
To  me,  for  I'll  tell  the  jurors  that  they 
May  lick,  if  they  please,  my  platter." 


BLACK  BEETLES  IN  AMBER 


ARBORICULTURE 

[Californians  are  asking  themselves  how  Joaquin  Miller 
will  make  the  trees  grow  which  he  proposes  to  plant  in  the 
form  of  a  Maltese  cross  on  Goat  Island,  in  San  Francisco  Bay. 
—New  York  Graphic.'} 

T7OU  may  say  they  won't  grow,  and  say  they'll 
•*•       decay — 

Say  it  again  till  you're  sick  of  the  say, 
Get  up  on  your  ear,  blow  j-our  blaring  bazoo 
And  hire  a  hall  to  proclaim  it ;  and  you 
May  stand  on  a  stump  with  a  lifted  hand 
As  a  pine  may  stand  or  a  redwood  stand, 
And  stick  to  your  story  and  cheek  it  through. 
But  I  point  with  pride  to  the  far  divide 
Where  the  Snake  from  its  groves  is  seen  to  glide — 
To  Mariposa's  arboreal  suit, 
And  the  shaggy  shoulders  of  Shasta  Butte, 
And  the  feathered  firs  of  Siskiyou  ; 
And  I  swear  as  I  sit  on  my  marvelous  hair- — 
I  roll  my  marvelous  eyes  and  swear, 
And  sneer,  and  ask  where  would  your  forests  be 
To-day  if  it  hadn't  been  for  me  ! 
Then  I  rise  tip-toe,  with  a  brow  of  brass, 
Like  a  bully  boy  with  an  eye  of  glass  ; 
I  look  at  my  gum  sprouts,  red  and  blue, 
And  I  say  it  loud  and  I  say  it  low  : 
"  They  know  their  man  and  you  bet  they'll  grow  ! ' ' 


i56  BLACK  BEETLES  IX  AM  11  EX 


A   SILURIAN    HOLIDAY 

S  Master  Fitch,  the  editor; 
He  takes  an  holiday. 
Now  wherefore,  venerable  sir, 
vSo  resolutely  gay  ? 

He  lifts  his  head,  he  laughs  aloud, 

Odzounds  !  'tis  drear  to  see  ! 
<c  Because  the  Boodle-Scribbler  crowd 
Will  soon  be  far  from  me. 

"  Full  many  a  year  I've  striven  well 

To  freeze  the  caitiffs  out 
By  making  this  good  town  a  Hell, 
But  still  they  hang  about. 

"  They  maken  mouths  and  eke  they  grin 

At  the  dollar  limit  game ; 
And  they  are  holpen  in  that  sin 
By  many  a  wicked  dame. 

"  In  sylvan  bowers  hence  I'll  dwell 

My  bruised  mind  to  ease. 
Farewell,  ye  urban  scenes,  farewell  ! 
Hail,  unfamiliar  trees  ! " 

Forth  Master  Fitch  did  bravely  hie, 

And  all  the  country  folk 
Besought  him  that  he  come  not  nigh 

The  deadly  poison  oak  ! 


BLACK  BEETLES  IN  AMBER  157 

He  smiled  a  cheerful  smile  (the  day 

Was  straightway  overcast) — 
The  poison  oak  along  his  way 

Was  blighted  as  he  passed ! 


REJECTED 

TTTHEX  Dr.  Charles  O'Donnell  died 
^  ^     They  sank  a  box  writh  him  inside. 

The  plate  with  his  initials  three 
Was  simply  graven—"  C.  O'D." 

That  night  two  demons  of  the  Pit 
Adown  the  coal-hole  shunted  it. 

Ten  million  million  leagues  it  fell, 
Alighting  at  the  gate  of  Hell. 

Nick  looked  upon  it  with  surprise, 
A  night-storm  darkening  his  eyes. 

They've  sent  this  rubbish,  C.  O.  D. — 
I  '11  never  pay  a  cent !  "   said  he. 


158  BLACK  BEETLES  L\T  AMBER 


JUDEX  JUDICATUS 

JUDGE  ARMSTRONG,  when  the  paor have  sought 
your  aid, 

To  be  released  from  vows  that  they  have  made 
In  haste,  and  leisurely  repented,  you, 
As  stern  as  Rhadamanthus  (Minos  too, 
And  ^Eacus)  have  drawn  your  fierce  brows  down 
And  petrified  them  with  a  moral  frown  ! 
With  iron-faced  rigor  you  have  made  them  run 
The  gauntlet  of  publicity — each  Hun 
Or  Vandal  of  the  public  press  allowed 
To  throw  their  households  open  to  the  crowd 
And  bawl  their  secret  bickerings  aloud. 
When  Wealth  before  you  suppliant  appears, 
Bang  !  go  the  doors  and  open  fly  your  ears  ! 
The  blinds  are  drawn,  the  lights  diminished  burn, 
Eest  eyes  too  curious  should  look  and  learn 
That  gold  refines  not,  sweetens  not  a  life 
Of  conjugal  brutality  and  strife — 
That  vice  is  vulgar,  though  it  gilded  shine 
Upon  the  curve  of  a  judicial  spine. 
The  veiled  complainant's  whispered  evidence, 
The  plain  collusion  and  the  no  defense, 
The  sealed  exhibits  and  the  secret  plea, 
The  unrecorded  and  unseen  decree, 
The  midnight  signature  and — chink!  chink  !  chink  ! — • 
Nay,  pardon,  upright  Judge,  I  did  but  think 


L'LACK'  J1EETLES  IN  AMBER  159 

I  heard  that  sound  abhorred  of  honest  men  ; 
Xo  doubt  it  was  the  scratching  of  your  pen. 

O  California  !  long-enduring  land, 
\Vhere  Judges  fawn  upon  the  Golden  Hand, 
Proud  of  such  service  to  that  rascal  thing 
As  slaves  would  blush  to  render  to  a  king- 
Judges,  of  judgment  destitute  and  heart, 
Of  conscience  conscious  only  by  the  smart 
From  the  recoil  (so  insight  is  enlarged) 
Of  duty  accidentally  discharged  ; — 
Invoking  still  a  "  song  o'  sixpence  "  from 
The  Scottish  fiddle  of  each  lusty  palm, 
Thy  Judges,  California,  skilled  to  play 
This  silent  music,  through  the  livelong  day 
Perform  obsequious  before  the  rich, 
And  still  the  more  they  scratch  the  more  they  itch  ! 


OX   THE   WEDDIXG   OF    AX"    AEROXTAUT 

Aeronaut,  you're  fairly  caught, 

Despite  your  bubble's  leaven  : 
Out  of  the  skies  a  lady's  eyes 

Have  brought  you  down  to  Heaven  ! 

Xo  more,  no  more  you'll  freely  soar 

Above  the  grass  and  gravel : 
Henceforth  you'll  walk — and  she  will  chalk 

The  line  that  you're  to  travel ! 


i6o  BLACK  BEETLES  IN  AMBER 


A   HASTY   INFERENCE 

THE  Devil  one  day,  coming  up  from  the  Pit, 
All  grimy  with  perspiration, 
Applied  to  St.  Peter  and  begged  he'd  admit 
Him  a  moment  for  consultation. 

The  Saint  showed  him  in  where  the  Master  reclined 
On  the  throne  where  petitioners  sought  him  ; 

Both  bowed,  and  the  Evil  One  opened  his  mind 
Concerning  the  business  that  brought  him  : 

"  For  ten  million  years  I've  been  kept  in  a  stew 

Because  you  have  thought  me  immoral  ; 

And  though  I  have  had  my  opinion  of  you, 

You've  had  the  best  end  of  the  quarrel. 

ci  But  now — well,  I  venture  to  hope  that  the  past 

With  its  misunderstandings  we'll  smother  ; 
And  you,  sir,  and  I,  sir,  be  throned  here  at  last 
As  equals,  the  one  to  the  other. " 

"  Indeed  ! "  said  the  Master  (I  cannot  convey 

A  sense  of  his  tone  by  mere  letters) 
"  What  makes  you  presume  you'll  be  bidden  to  stay 

Up  here  on  such  terms  with  your  betters  ?  ' ' 

"  Why,  sure  you  can't  mean  it ! "  said  Satan.    "I've 

seen 
How  Stanford  and  Crocker  you've  nourished, 


BLACK  BEETLES  IX  AMBER  161 

And  Huntington — bless  me !   the  three  like  a  green 
Umbrageous  great  bay-tree  have  flourished. 

'  They  are  fat,   they  are  rolling  in  gold,  they  com 
mand 

All  sources  and  well-springs  of  power  ; 
You've  given  them  houses,  you've  given  them  land — 
Before  them  the  righteous  all  cower. " 

"  What  of  that  ?"     "  What  of  that?"  cried  the  Father 

of  Sin  ; 

"  Why,  I  thought  when  I  saw  you  were  winking 
At  crimes  such  as  theirs  that  perhaps  you  had  been 
Converted  to  my  way  of  thinking. ' ' 


A   VOLUPTUARY 

WHO'S  this  that  lispeth  in  the  thickening  throng 
Which  crowds  to  claim  distinction  in  my  song? 
Fresh  from  "the  palms  and  temples  of  the  South," 
The  mixed  aromas  quarrel  in  his  mouth : 
Of  orange  blossoms  this  the  lingering  gale, 
And  that  the  odor  of  a  spicy  tale. 
Sir,  in  thy  pleasure-dome  down  by  the  sea 
(Xo  finer  one  did  Kubla  Khan  decree) 
Where,  Master  of  the  Revels,  thou  dost  stand 
With  joys  and  mysteries  on  either  hand, 
Dost  keep  a  poet  to  report  the  rites 
And  sing  the  tale  of  those  Elysian  nights  ? 
Faith,  sir,  I'd  like  the  place  if  not  too  young. 
I'm  no  great  bard,  but — I  can  hold  my  tongue. 


162  BLACK  BEETLES  IN  AMBER 


AD   CATTONUM 

I  KNOW  not,  Mr.  Catton,  who  you  are, 
Nor  very  clearly  why  ;  but  3*ou  go  far 
To  show  that  you  are  many  things  beside 
A  Chilean  Consul  with  a  tempting  hide  ; 
But  what  they  are  I  hardly  could  explain 
Without  afflicting  you  with  mental  pain. 
Your  name  (gods  !  wrhat  a  name  the  muse  to  woo— 
Suggesting  cats,  and  hinting  kittens,  too  !) 
Points  to  an  origin — perhaps  Maltese, 
Perhaps  Angoran — where  the  wicked  cease 
From  fiddling,  and  the  animals  that  grow 
The  strings  that  groan  to  the  tormenting  bow 
Live  undespoiled  of  their  insides,  resigned 
To  give  their  name  and  nature  to  mankind. 
With  Chilean  birth  your  name  but  poorly  tallies  ; 
The  test  is — Did  you  ever  sell  tamales? 

It  matters  very  little,  though,  my  boy, 

If  you're  from  Chile  or  from  Illinois  ; 

You  can't,  because  you  serve  a  foreign  land, 

Spit  with  impunity  on  ours,  expand, 

Cock-turkeywise,  and  strut  with  blind  conceit, 

All  heedless  of  the  hearts  beneath  your  feet, 

Fling  falsehoods  as  a  sower  scatters  grain 

And,  for  security,  invoke  disdain. 

Sir,  there  are  laws  that  men  of  sense  observe, 

No  matter  \vhence  they  come  nor  whom  they  serve- 

The  laws  of  courtesy  ;  and  these  forbid 


BLACK  BEETLES  IN  AMBER  163 

You  to  malign,  as  recently  you  did, 
As  servant  of  another  State,  a  State 
Wherein  your  duties  all  are  concentrate  ; 
Branding  its  Ministers  as  rogues— in  short? 
Inviting  cuffs  as  suitable  retort. 

Chileno  or  American,  'tis  one — 

Of  any  land  a  citizen,  or  none — 

If  like  a  new  Thersites  here  you  rail, 

Loading  with  libels  every  western  gale, 

You'll  feel  the  cudgel  on  your  scurvy  hump 

Impinging  with  a  salutary  thump. 

'Twill  make  you  civil  or  'twill  make  you  jump ! 


THE   NATIONAL   GUARDSMAN 

I'M  a  gorgeous  golden  hero 
And  my  trade  is  taking  life. 
Hear  the  twittle-twittle-tweero 

Of  my  sibillating  fife 
And  the  rub-a-dub-a-dum 

Of  my  big  bass  drum  ! 
I'm  an  escort  strong  and  bold, 

The  Grand  Army  to  protect. 
My  countenance  is  cold 

And  my  attitude  erect. 
I'm  a  Californian  Guard 

And  niy  banner  flies  aloft, 
But  the  stones  are  O,  so  hard  i 

And  my  feet  are  O,  so  soft ! 


1 64  BLACK  BEETLES  IN  AMBER 


THE   BARKING   WEASEL 

say,  John  Irish,  Mr.  Taylor  hath 
-*•      A  painted  beard.     Quite  likely  that  is  true, 
And  sure  'tis  natural  you  spend  your  wrath 

On  what  has  been  least  merciful  to  you. 
By  Taylor's 'chin,  if  I  am  not  mistaken, 
You  like  a  rat  have  recently  been  shaken. 

To  wear  a  beard  of  artificial  hue 

May  be  or  this  or  that,  I  know  not  what ; 

But,  faith,  'tis  better  to  be  black-and-blue 
In  beard  from  dallying  with  brush  and  pot 

Than  to  be  so  in  body  from  the  beating 

That  hardy  rogues  get  wrhen  detected  cheating. 

You're  whacked  about  the  mazzard  rather  more 
Of  late  than  any  other  man  in  town. 

Certes  }~our  vulnerable  back  is  sore 

And  tender,  too,  your  corrigible  crown. 

In  truth  your  whole  periphery  discloses 

More  vivid  colors  than  a  bed  of  posies  ! 

You  call  it  glory  !     Put  }rour  tongue  in  sheath  ! — 

Scars  got  in  battle,  even  if  on  the  breast, 
May  be  a  shameful  record  if,  beneath, 

A  robber  heart  a  lawless  strife  attest. 
John  Sullivan  had  wounds,  a::d  Paddy  Ryan- 
Nay,  as  to  that,  even  Masten  has,  and  Bryan. 


BLACK  BEETLES  /.V  AMBER  165 

'Tis  willingly  conceded  you've  a  knack 

At  holding  the  attention  of  the  town  ; 
The  worse  for  you  when  you  have  on  your  back 

What  did  not  grow  there — prithee  put  it  down  ! 
For  pride  kills  thrift,  and  you  lack  board  and  lodging, 
Even  while  the  brickbats  of  renown  you're  dodging 


A  REAR  ELEVATION 

[He  can  speak  with  his  eyes,  his  hands,  arms,  legs,  body — 
nay,  with  his  very  bones,  for  he  turned  the  broad  of  his  back 
upon  us  in  "  Conrad,"  the  other  night,  and  his  shoulder-blades 
spoke  to  us  a  volume  of  hesitation,  fear,  submission,  despera 
tion — everything  which  could  haunt  a  man  at  the  moment  of 
inevitable  detection. — A  "  Dramatic  Critic.'''] 

OXCE  Moses  (in  Scripture  the  story  is  told) 
Entreated  the  favor  God's  face  to  behold. 
Compassion  divine  the  petition  denied 
Lest  vision  be  blasted  and  body  be  fried. 
Yet  this  much,  the  Record  informs  us,  took  place  : 
Jehovah,  concealing  His  terrible  face, 
Protruded  His  rear  from  behind  a  great  rock, 
And  edification  ensued  without  shock. 
vSo  godlike  Salvini,  lest  worshipers  die, 
Averting  the  blaze  of  his  withering  ej'e, 
Tempers  his  terrors  and  shows  to  the  pack 
Of  feeble  adorers  the  broad  of  his  back. 
The  fires  of  their  altars,  which  paled  and  declined 
Before  him,  burn  all  the  more  brightly  behind. 
O  happy  adorers,  to  care  not  at  all 
Where  fawning  may  tickle  or  lip-service  fall  ! 


166  BLACK  BEETLES  IN  AMBER 


IX   UPPER   SAX   FRANCISCO 

I  HEARD  that  Heaven  was  bright  and  fair, 
And  politicians  dwelt  not  there. 


'Twas  said  by  knowing  ones  that  they 
Were  in  the  Elsewhere — so  to  say. 

So,  waking  from  my  last  long  sleep, 
I  took  my  place  among  the  sheep. 

I  passed  the  gate — Saint  Peter  eyed 
Me  sharply  as  I  stepped  inside. 

He  thought,  as  afterward  I  learned, 
That  I  was  Chris,  the  Unreturned. 

The  new  Jerusalem — ah  me, 
It  was  a  sorry  sight  to  see  ! 

The  mansions  of  the  blest  were  there, 
And  mostly  they  were  fine  and  fair ; 

But  O,  such  streets  ! — so  deep  and  wide. 
And  all  unpaved,  from  side  to  side  ! 

And  in  a  public  square  there  grew 
A  blighted  tree,  most  sad  to*view. 

From  off  its  trunk  the  bark  was  ripped — 
Its  very  branches  all  were  stripped  ! 


HL  A  CK  L'EE  TL  ES  IN  AMUER  1 67 

An  angel  perched  upon  the  fence 
With  all  the  grace  of  indolence. 

"  Celestial  bird,"  I  cried,  in  pain, 

<{  What  vandal  wrought  this  wreck?    Explain." 

He  raised  his  eyelids  as  if  tired  : 
"  What  is  a  Vandal?  "   he  inquired. 

"  This  is  the  Tree  of  Life.     'Twas  stripped 
By  Durst  and  Siebe,  who  have  shipped 

<c  The  bark  across  the  Jordan — see? — 
And  sold  it  to  a  tannery." 

"  Alas,"  I  sighed,  "  their  old-time  tricks  i 
That  pavement,  too,  of  golden  bricks — 

"  They've  gobbled  that  ?  "     But  with  a  scowl, 
"  You  greatly  wrong  them,"  said  the  fowl: 

'  Twas  Gilleran  did  that,  I  fear — 
Head  of  the  Street  Department  here," 

"  What !  what !  "  cried  I — "  3*011  let  such  chaps 
Come  here?     You've  Satan,  too,  perhaps." 

'  We  had  him,  yes,  but  off  he  went, 
Yet  showed  some  purpose  to  repent ; 

'  But  since  your  priests  and  parsons  filled 
The  place  with  those  their  preaching  killed" — 


1 68  BLACK  BEETLES  IN  AMBER 

(Here  Siebe  passed  along  with  Durst, 
Psalming  as  if  tlieir  lungs  would  burst) — 

; '  He  s\vears  his  foot  no  more  shall  press 
('Tis  cloven,  anyhow,  I  guess) 

"  Our  .soil.     In  short,  he's  out  on  strike- 
But  devils  are  not  all  alike." 

Lo  !  Gilleran  came  down  the  street, 
Pressing  the  soil  with  broad,  flat  feet ! 


NIMROD 

were  brave  men,  some  one  lias  truly  said, 
-A-       Before  Atrides  (those  were  mostly  dead 
Behind  him)  and  ere  you  could  e'er  occur 
Actaeon  lived,  Nimrod  and  Bahram-Gur. 
In  strength  and  speed  and  daring  they  excelled : 
The  stag  they  overtook,  the  lion  felled. 
Ah,  yes,  great  hunters  flourished  before  you, 
And — for  Munchausen  lived — great  talkers  too. 
There'll  be  no  more;  there's  much  to  kill,  but — well, 
You  have  left  nothing  in  the  world  to  tell ! 


BLACK  BEETLES  IN  AMBER  169 


CENSOR  IvlTERARUM 

SO,  Parson  Stebbins,  you've  released  your  chin 
To  say  that  here,  and  here,  we  press-folk  ail. 
'Tis  a  great  thing  an  editor  to  skin 
And  hang  his  faulty  pelt  upon  a  nail 
(If  over-eared,  it  has,  at  least,  no  tail) 
And,  for  an  admonition  against  sin, 
Point  out  its  maculations  with  a  rod, 
And  act,  in  short,  the  gentleman  of  God. 

'Twere  needless  cruelty  to  spoil  your  sport 

By  comment,  critical  or  merely  rude  ; 
But  you,  too,  have,  according  to  report, 

Despite  your  posing  as  a  holy  dude, 

Imperfect  spiritual  pulchritude 
For  so  severe  a  judge.      May't  please  the  court, 
\Ve  shall  appeal  and  take  our  case  at  once 
Before  that  higher  court,  a  taller  dunce. 

Sir,  what  were  you  without  the  press?     \Vhatspreads 
The  fame  of  your  existence,  once  a  week, 

From  the  Pacific  Mail  dock  to  the  Heads, 
Warning  the  people  3-011 're  about  to  wreak 
Upon  the  human  ear  your  Sunday  freak? — 

Whereat  the  most  betake  them  to  their  bed 

Though  some  prefer  to  slumber  in  the  pews 

And  nod  assent  to  3-0 tir  hypnotic  views. 


1 70  BLACK  BEETLES  AV  AMBER 

Unhappy  man  !  can  you.  not  still  your  tongue 
When  (like  a  luckless  brat  afflict  with  worms, 

By  cruel  fleas  intolerably  stung, 

Or  with  a  pang  in  its  small  lap)  it  squirms  ? 

Still  must  it  vulgarize  your  feats  of  lung? 

No  preaching  better  were,  the  sun  beneath, 

If  you  had  nothing  there  behind  }-our  teeth. 


BORROWED    BRAINS 

"TTTRITER  folk  across  the  bay 

^  V     Take  the  pains  to  see  and  say- 
All  their  upward  palms  in  air  : 
Joaquin  Miller's  cut  his  hair !  " 
Hasten,  hasten,  writer  folk — 
In  the  gutters  rake  and  poke, 
If  by  God's  exceeding  grace 
You  may  hit  upon  the  place 
Where  the  barber  threw  at  length 
Samson's  literary  strength. 
Find  it,  find  it  if  you  can  ; 
Happy  the  successful  man  ! 
He  has  but  to  put  one  strand 
In  his  beaver's  inner  band 
And  his  intellect  will  soar 
As  it  never  did  before  ! 
While  an  inch  of  it  remains 
He  will  noted  be  for  brains, 
And  at  last  ('twill  so  befall) 
Fit  to  cease  to  write  at  all. 


BLACK  BEETLES  IN  AMBER  171 


THE  KYGHTYNGE  SEVENTH 

IT  is  the  gallant  Seventh- 
It  fyghteth  faste  and  free  ! 
God  wot  the  where  it  fyghteth 
I  ne  desyre  to  be. 

The  Gonfalon  it  flyeth, 

Seeming  a  Flayme  in  Sky  ; 

The  Bugel  loud  yblowen  is, 
Which  sayeth,  Doe  and  dye  ! 

And  (O  good  Saints  defende  us 
Agaynst  the  Woes  of  Warr) 

Drawn  Tongues  are  flashing  deadly 
To  sinyte  the  Foemaii  sore  ! 

With  divers  kinds  of  Riddance 
The  snioaking  Earth  is  wet, 

And  all  aflowe  to  seaward  goe 
The  Torrents  wide  of  Sweat ! 

The  Thunder  of  the  Captens, 
And  eke  the  Shouting,  mayketh 

Such  horrid  Din  the  Soule  within 
The  boddy  of  me  quayketh  ! 

Who  fyghteth  the  bold  Seventh  ? 

What  haughty  Power  defyes  ? 
Their  Colonel  'tis  they  drubben  sore, 

And  damrncn  too  his  Eyes  ! 


172  BLACK  BEETLES  IN  AMBER 


INDICTED 

DEAR  Brunei,  once  we  had  a  little  talk 
(That  is  to  say,  'twas  I  did  all  the  talking) 
About  the  n:a:i::cr  of  your  moral  walk  : 

How  devious  the  trail  you  made  in  stalking, 
On  level  ground,  your  law-protected  game — • 
:<  Another's  Dollar  ' '  is,  I  think,  its  name. 

Your  crooked  course  more  recently  is  not 
So  blamable ;  for,  truly,  you  have  stumbled 

On  evil  days  ;  and  'tis  your  luckless  lot 
To  traverse  spaces  (with  a  spirit  humbled, 

Contrite,  dejected  and  divinely  sad) 

Where,  'tis  confessed,  the  walking' s  rather  bad. 

Jordan,  the  song  says,  is  a  road  (I  thought 
It  was  a  river)  that  is  hard  to  travel  ; 

And  Dublin,  if  }-ou'd  find  it,  must  be  sought 
Along  a  highway  with  more  rocks  than  gravel. 

In  difficulty  neither  can  compete 

With  that  wrherein  you  navigate  your  feet. 

As  once  George  Gorham  said  of  Pixley,  so 

I  say  of  you  :   * '  The  prison  yawns  before  you, 

The  turnkey  stalks  behind  !  "  Now  will  }~ou  go? 
Or  lag,  and  let  that  functionary  floor  }~ou? 

To  change  the  metaphor — you  seem  to  be 

Between  Judge  Wallace  and  the  deep,  deep  sea  ! 


BLACK  BEETLES  IN  AMBER  173 


OVER   THE   BORDER 

O  JUSTICE,  you  have  fled,  to  dwell 
)      In  Mexico,  unstrangled, 
Lest  you  should  hang  as  high  as — well, 
As  Haman  dangled. 

(I  know  not  if  his  cord  he  twanged, 

Or  the  King  proved  forgiving. 
'Tis  hard  to  think  of  Haman  hanged, 
And  Raymond  living.) 

Yes,  as  I  said  :  in  mortal  fear 
To  Mexico  you  journeyed  ; 
For  3*011  were  on  your  trial  here, 
And  ill  attcrneyed. 

The  Law  had  long  regarded  you 

As  an  extreme  offender. 
Religion  looked  upon  3*011,  too, 
With  thoughts  untender. 

The  Press  to  you  was  cold  as  snow, 

For  sin  3*011' d  alwa3*s  call  so. 
In  Politics  you  were  de  trop, 
In  Morals  also. 

All  this  is  accurate^*  true 

And,  faith  !  there  might  be  more  said  ; 
But — well,  to  save  3*our  thrapple  3*011 
Fled,  as  aforesaid. 


.174  BLACK  BEETLES  IN  AMBER 

You're  down  in.  Mexico — that's  plain 

As  that  the  sun  is  risen ; 
For  Daniel  Burns,  down  there,  his  chain 

Drags  round  in  prison. 


ONE  JUDGE 

"TT  TALL  ACE,  created  on  a  noble  plan 

*  V     To  show  us  that  a  Judge  can  be  a  Man ; 
Through  moral  mire  exhaling  mortal  stench 
God-guided  sweet  and  foot-clean  to  the  Bench  ; 
In  salutation  here  and  sign  I  lift 
A  hand  as  free  as  yours  from  lawless  thrift, 
A  heart — ah,  would  I  truly  could  proclaim 
My  bosom  lighted  with  so  pure  a  flame  I 
Alas,  not  love  of  justice  moves  my  pen 
To  praise,  or  to  condemn,  my  fellow  men. 
Good  will  and  ill  its  busy  point  incite  : 
I  do  but  gratify  them  when  I  write. 
In  palliation,  though,  I'd  humbly  state, 
I  love  the  righteous  and  the  wicked  hate. 
So,  sir,  although  we  differ  we  agree, 
Our  work  alike  from  persecution  free, 
And  Heaven,  approving  you,  consents  to  me. 
Take,  therefore,  from  this  not  all  useless  hand 
The  crown  of  honor — not  in  all  the  land 
One  honest  man  dissenting  from  the  choice, 
Nor  in  approval  one  Fred.  Crocker's  voice ! 


BLACK  BEETLES  IN  AMBER  175 


TO    AN   INSOLENT  ATTORNEY 

SO,  Hall  McAllister,  3-011' 11  not  be  warned — 
My  protest  slighted,  admonition  scorned ! 
To  save  37our  scoundrel  client  from  a  cell 
As  loth  to  swallow  him  as  he  to  swell 
Its  sum  of  meals  insurgent  (it  decries 
All  wars  intestinal  with  meats  that  rise) 
You  turn  j^our  scurril  tongue  against  the  press 
And  damn  the  agency  3-00.  orght  to  bless. 
Had  not  the  press  with  all  its  hundred  eyes 
Discerned  the  wolf  beneath  the  sheep's  disguise 
And  raised  the  cry  upon  him,  he  to-day 
Would  lack  your  company,  and  3^011  would  lack   his 
pay. 

Talk  not  of  <(  hire  ' '  and  consciences  for  sale — 

You  whose  profession  'tis  to  threaten,  rail, 

Calumniate  and  libel  at  the  will 

Of  any  villain  who  can  pay  the  bill — 

You  whose  most  honest  dollars  all  were  got 

By  saying  for  a  fee  "the  thing  that's  not !  " 

To  3'ou  'tis  one,  to  challenge  or  defend  ; 

Clients  are  means,  their  money  is  an  end. 

In  my  profession  sometimes,  as  in  3Tours 

Alwa}rs,  a  pa3~ment  large  enough  secures 

A  mercenar3r  service  to  defend 

The  guilty  or  the  innocent  to  rend. 

But  mark  the  difference,  nor  think  it  slight : 


1 76  DLA  CK  BEE  TL  ES  IN  A  MBER 

We  do  not  hold  it  proper,  just  and  right ; 

Of  selfish  lies  a  little  still  we  shame 

And  give  our  villainies  another  name. 

Hypocrisy's  an  ugly  vice,  no  doubt, 

But  blushing  sinners  can't  get  on  without. 

Happy  the  lawyer  ! — at  his  favored  hands 

Nor  truth  nor  decency  ths  world  demands. 

Secure  in  his  immunity  from  shame, 

His  cheek  ne'er  kindles  with  the  tell-tale  flame. 

His  brains  for  sale,  morality  for  hire, 

In  every  land  and  century  a  licensed  liar ! 

No  doubt,  McAllister,  }TOU  can  explain 

How  honorable  'tis  to  lie  for  gain, 

Provided  only  that  the  jury's  made 

To  understand  that  lying  is  your  trade. 

A  hundred  thousand  volumes,  broad  and  flat, 

(The  Bible  not  included)  proving  that, 

Have  been  put  forth,  though  still  the  doubt  remains 

If  God  has  read  them  with  befitting  pains. 

No  Morrow  could  get  justice,  j-ou'll  declare, 

If  none  wrho  knew  him  foul  affirmed  him  fair. 

Ingenious  man  !  how  easy  'tis  to  raise 

An  argument  to  justify  the  course  that  pays ! 

I  grant  you,  if  you  like,  that  men  may  need 
The  services  performed  for  crime  by  greed,— 
Grant  that  the  perfect  welfare  of  the  State 
Requires  the  aid  of  those  who  in  debate 
As  mercenaries  lost  in  early  youth 
The  fine  distinction  between  lie  and  truth — 
Who  cheat  in  argument  and  set  a  snare 


BLACK  BEETLES  IN  AMBER  177 

To  take  the  feet  of  Justice  unaware — 

Who  serve  with  livelier  zeal  when  rogues  assist 

With  perjury,  embracery  (the  list 

Is  long  to  quote)  than  when  an  honest  soul, 

Scorning  to  plot,  conspire,  intrigue,  cajole, 

Reminds  them  (their  astonishment  how  great !) 

He'd  rather  suffer  wrong  than  perpetrate. 

I  grant,  in  short,  'tis  better  all  around 

That  ambidextrous  consciences  abound 

In  courts  of  law  to  do  the  dirty  work 

That  self-respecting  scavengers  would  shirk. 

What  then  ?     Who  serves  however  clean  a  plan 

By  doing  dirty  work,  he  is  a  dirty  man  ! 


ACCEPTED 

/-CHARLES   SHORTRIDGE    once   to   St.    Peter 

^-^     came. 

"  Down  !  "  cried  the  saint  with  his  face  aflame  ; 
"  'Tis  writ  that  every  hardy  liar 

Shall  dwell  forever  and  ever  in  fire  ! " 
"  That's  what  I  said  the  night  that  I  died, " 

The  sinner,  turning  away,  replied. 
"What!  you  said  that?"    cried   the  saint — "what! 
what  ! 

You  said  'twas  so  writ?     Then,  faith,  'tis  not! 

I'm  a  devil  at  quoting,  but  I  begin 

To  fail  in  my  memory.     Pray  walk  in. ' ' 


178  BLACK  BEETLES  IN  AMBER 


A   PROMISED    FAST   TRAIN 

T  TURNED  my  eyes  upon  the  Future's  scroll 
-*-     And  saw  its  pictured  prophecies  unroll. 

I  saw  that  magical  life-laden  train 

Flash  its  long  glories  o'er  Nebraska's  plain. 

I  saw  it  smoothly  up  the  mountain  glide. 
"  O  happy,  happy  passengers  !  "  I  cried. 

For  Pleasure,  singing,  drowned  the  engine's  roj 
And  Hope  on  joyous  pinions  flew  before. 

Then  dived  the  train  adown  the  sunset  slope- 
Pleasure  was  silent  and  unseen  was  Hope. 

Crashes  and  shrieks  attested  the  decay 
That  greed  had  wrought  upon  that  iron  way. 

The  rusted  rails  broke  down  the  rotting  ties, 
And  clouds  of  flying  spikes  obscured  the  skies. 

My  coward  eyes  I  drew  away,  distressed, 
And  fixed  them  on  the  terminus  to- West, 

Where  soon,  its  melancholy  tale  to  tell, 
One  bloody  car-wheel  wabbled  in  and  fell ! 


BLACK  BEETLES  IN  AMBER  179 


ONE  OF  THE  SAINTS 

BIG  SMITH  is  an  Oakland  School  Board  man, 
And  he  looks  as  good  as  ever  he  can  ; 
And  he's  such  a  cold  and  a  chaste  Big  Smith 
That  snowflakes  all  are  his  kin  and  kith. 
"Wherever  his  eye  he  chances  to  throw 
The  crystals  of  ice  begin  to  grow  ; 
And  the  fruits  and  flowers  he  sees  are  lost 
By  the  singeing  touch  of  a  sudden  frost. 
The  women  all  shiver  whenever  he's  near, 
And  look  upon  us  with  a  look  austere — 
Bffect  of  the  Smithian  atmosphere. 
Such,  in  a  word,  is  the  moral  plan 
Of  the  Big,  Big  Smith,  the  School  Board  man, 
When  told  that  Madame  Ferrier  had  taught 
Hetnani  in  school,  his  fist  he  brought 
Like  a  trip-hammer  down  on  his  bulbous  knee, 
And  he  roared  :    "  Her  Nanny?    By  gum,  we'll  see 
If  the  public's  time  she  dares  devote 
To  the  educatin'  of  any  dam  goat ! ' ' 

''  You  do  not  entirely  comprehend — 
Hernani^s  a  play,"  said  his  learned  friend, 

'  By  Victor  Hugo — immoral  and  bad. 
What's  worse,  it's  French  !  "    * '  Well,  well,  my  lad, ' ' 
Said  Smith,  "if  he  cuts  a  swTath  so  wide 
I'll  have  him  took  re'glar  up  and  tried." 
And  he  smiled  so  sweetly  the  other  chap 


i8o  BLACK  BEETLES  IN  AMBER 

Thought  that  himself  was  a  Finn  or  Lapp 
Caught  in  a  storm  of  his  native  sno;vs, 
With  a  purple  ear  and  an  azure  nose. 
The  Smith  continued  :     "I  never  pursue 
Immoral  readin'."     And  that  is  true  : 
He's  a  saint  of  remarkably  high  degree, 
With  a  mind  as  chaste  as  a  mind  can  be  ; 
But  read! — the  devil  a  word  can  he  ! 


A    MILITARY   INCIDENT 

DAWN  heralded  the  coming  sun- 
Fort  Douglas  \vas  computing 
The  minutes — and  the  sunrise  gun 
Was  manned  for  his  saluting, 

The  gunner  at  that  firearm  stood, 
The  which  he  slowly  loaded, 

When,  bang  ! — I  know  not  how  it  could,, 
But  sure  the  charge  exploded  ! 

Yes,  to  that  veteran's  surprise 

The  gun  went  off  sublimely, 
And  both  his  busy  arms  likewise 
Went  off  with  it,  untimely. 

Then  said  that  gunner  to  his  mate 
(He  was  from  Ballyshannon)  : 

Bedad,  the  sun's  a  minute  late, 
Accardin'  to  this  cannon  ! s  * 


BLACK  BEETLES  IX  AMBER  181 


SUBSTANCE   VERSUS   SHADOW 

SO,  gentle  critics,  you  would  have  me  tilt, 
Not  at  the  guilty,  only  just  at  Guilt  !— 
Spare  the  offender  and  condemn  Offense, 
And  make  life  miserable  to  Pretense ! 
Whip  Vice  and  Folly — that  is  satire 's  use- 
But  be  not  personal,  for  that's  abuse  ; 
Nor  e'er  forget  what,  '  like  a  razor  keen, 
Wounds  with  a  touch  that's  neither  felt  nor  seen.'  ' 
Well,  friends,  I  venture,  destitute  of  awe, 
To  think  that  razor  but  an  old,  old  saw, 
A  trifle  rust}-  ;  and  a  wound,  I'm  sure, 
That's  felt  not,  seen  not,  one  can  well  endure. 
Go  to  !  go  to  ! — you're  as  unfitted  quite 
To  give  advice  to  writers  as  to  write. 
I  find  in  Folly  and  in  Vice  a  lack 
Of  head  to  hit,  and  for  the  lash  no  back  ; 
Whilst  Pixley  has  a  po\v  that's  easy  struck, 
And  though  good  Deacon  Fitch  (a  Fitch  for  luck !) 
Has  none,  yet,  lest  he  go  entirely  free, 
God  gave  to  him  a  corn,  a  heel  to  me. 
He,  also,  sets  his  face  (so  like  a  flint 
The  wonder  grows  that  Pickering  doesn't  skin't) 
With  cold  austerity,  against  these  wars 
On  scamps — 'tis  Scampery  that  he  abhors  ! 
Behold  advance  in  dignity  and  state — 
Grave,  smug,  serene,  indubitably  great — 


182  BLACK  BEETLES  IN  AMBER 

Stanford,  philanthropist !     One  hand  bestows 
In  alms  what  t'other  one  as  justice  owes. 
Rascality  attends  him  like  a  shade, 
But  closes,  woundless,  o'er  my  baffled  blade, 
Its  limbs  unsevered,  spirit  undismayed. 
Faith  !     I'm  for  something  can  be  made  to  feel, 
If,  like  Pelides,  only  in  the  heel. 
The  fellow 's  self  invites  assault ;  his  crimes 
Will  each  bear  killing  twenty  thousand  times  ! 
Anon  Creed  Haymond — but  the  list  is  long 
Of  names  to  point  the  moral  of  my  song. 
Rogues,  fools,  impostors,  sycophants,  they  rise, 
They  foul  the  earth  and  horrify  the  skies — 
With  Mr.  Huntington  (sole  honest  man 
In  all  the  reek  of  that  rapscallion  clan) 
Denouncing  Theft  as  hard  as  e'er  he  can  ! 


THE   COMMITTEE    ON   PUBLIC   MORALS 

The  Senate  met  in  Sacramento  city ; 

On  public  morals  it  had  no  committee 

Though  greatly  these  abounded.     Soon  the  quiet 

Was  broken  by  the  Senators  in  riot. 

Now,  at  the  end  of  their  contagious  quarrels, 

There's  a  committee  but  no  public  morals. 


I] LACK  LEETLES  IN  AMBER  183 


W] 


CALIFORNIA 

[The  Chinaman's  Assailant  was  allowed  to  walk  quietly 
away,  although  the  street  was  filled  with  pedestrians. — News- 
paper.-} 

'HY  should  he  not  have  been  allowed 

To  thread  with  peaceful  feet  the  crowd 
Which  filled  that  Christian  street  ? 
The  Decalogue  he  had  observed, 
P'rorn  Faith  in  Jesus  had  not  swerved, 
And  scorning  pious  platitudes, 
He  saw  in  the  Beatitudes 
A  lamp  to  guide  his  feet. 

He  knew  that  Jonah  downed  the  whale 
And  made  no  bones  of  it.     The  tale 

That  Ananias  told 

He  swore  was  true.      He  had  no  doubt 
That  Daniel  laid  the  lions  out. 
In  short,  he  had  all  holiness, 
All  meekness  and  all  lowliness, 

And  was  with  saints  enrolled. 

'Tis  true,  some  slight  excess  of  zeal 
Sincerely  to  promote  the  weal 
Of  this  most  Christian  state 
Had  moved  him  rudely  to  divide 


i34  BLACK  BEETLES  IX  AMBER 

The  queue  that  was  a  pagan's  pride, 
And  in  addition  certify 
The  Faith  by  making  fur  to  fly 
From  pelt  as  well  as  pate  ? 

But,  Heavenly  Father,  thou  dost  know 
That  in  this  town  these  actions  go 

For  nothing  worth  a  name. 
Nay,  every  editorial  ass, 
To  prove  they  never  come  to  pass 
Will  damn  his  soul  eternally, 
Although  in  his  own  journal  he 

Ma}-  read  the  printed  shame. 

From  bloody  hands  the  reins  of  pow'r 
Fall  slack  ;  the  high-decisive  hour 

Strikes  not  for  liars'  ears. 
Remove,  O  Father,  the  disgrace 
That  stains  our  California's  face, 
And  consecrate  to  human  good 
The  strength  of  her  3-01111  g  womanhood 

And  all  her  golden  }-ears  ! 


DE   YOUNG— A   PROPHECY 

Running  for  Senator  with  clumsy  pace, 
He  stooped  so  low,  to  win  at  least  a  place, 
That  Fortune,  tempted  by  a  mark  so  droll. 
Sprang  in  an  kicked  him  to  the  winning  pole. 


BLACK  BEETLES  IN  AMBER  185 


TO  EITHER 

BACK  further  than 
I  know,  in  San 

Francisco  dwelt  a  wealthy  man. 
So  rich  was  he 
That  none  could  be 
Wise,  good  and  great  in  like  degree. 

'Tis  true  he  wrought, 

In  deed  or  thought, 
But  few  of  all  the  things  he  ought ; 

But  men  said:    "  Who 

Would  wish  him  to  ? 
Great  souls  are  born  to  be,  not  dc  !  " 

One  thing,  indeed, 

He  did,  we  read, 
Which  was  becoming,  all  agreed  : 

Grown  provident, 

Ere  life  was  spent 
He  built  a  mighty  monument. 

For  longer  than 

I  know,  in  San 
Francisco  lived  a  beggar  man  ; 

And  when  in  bed 

They  found  him  dead — 
Just  like  the  scamp  ! "  the  people  said. 


186  CLACK  BEETLES  IX  AMBER 

He  died,  they  say, 
On  the  same  day 

His  wealthy  neighbor  passed  away 
What  matters  it 
When  beggars  quit 
Their  beats  ?     I  answer  :     Xot  a  bit. 

They  got  a  spade 
And  pick  and  made 
A  hole,  and  there  the  chap  was  laid. 
"  He  asked  for  bread," 

'Twas  neatly  said  : 
"  He'll  get  not  even  a  stone  instead." 

The  years  rolled  round  ; 

His  humble  mound 
Sank  to  the  level  of  the  ground  ; 

And  men  forgot 

That  the  bare  spot 
Was  like  (and  was)  the  beggar's  lot. 

Forgotten,  too, 

Was  t'other,  who 
Had  reared  the  monument  to  woo 

Inconstant  Fame, 

Though  still  his  name 
Shouted  in  granite  just  the  same. 

That  name,  I  swear, 
They  both  did  bear 

The  beggar  and  the  millionaire. 
That  lofty  tomb, 
Then,  honored — whom  ? 

For  argument  here's  ample  room. 


BLACK  BEETLES  IN  AMBER  187- 

I'll  not  debate, 

But  only  state 
The  scamp  first  claimed  it  at  the  Gate. 

St.  Peter,  proud 

To  serve  him,  bowed 
And  showed  him  to  the  softest  cloud. 


DISAPPOINTMENT       . 

THE  Senate  woke  ;  the  Chairman's  snore 
Was  stilled,  its  echoes  balking  ; 
The  startled  members  dreamed  no  more, 
For  Steele,  who  long  had  held  the  floor, 
Had  suddenly  ceased  talking. 

As,  like  Elijah,  in  his  pride, 

He  to  his  seat  was  passing, 

Go  up  thou  baldhead  !  "   Reddy  cried. 

Then  six  fierce  bears  ensued  and  tried 
To  sunder  him  for  "  sassing." 

Two  seized  his  legs,  and  one  his  head, 

The  fourth  his  trunk,  to  munch  on  ; 
The  fifth  preferred  an  arm  instead  ; 
The  last,  with  rueful  visage,  said : 

;  Pray  what  have  /for  luncheon?" 

Then  to  that  disappointed  bear 

Said  Steele,  serene  and  chipper, 

My  friend,  you  shall  not  lack  your  share  : 

Look  in  the  Treasury,  and  there 

You'll  find  his  other  flipper." 


i88  BLACK  BEETLES  IN  AMBER 


THE   VALLEY  OF  THE  SHADOW   OF  THEFT 

TN  fair  Yosemite,  that  den  of  thieves 
-*•     Wherein  the  minions  of  the  moon  divide 
The  travelers'  purses,  lo  !  the  Devil  grieves, 
His  larger  share  as  leader  still  denied. 

El  Capitan,  foreseeing  that  his  reign 

May  be  disputed  too,  beclouds  his  head. 

The  joyous  Bridal  Veil  is  torn  in  twain 

And  the  crepe  steamer  dangles  there  instead. 

The  Vernal  Fall  abates  her  pleasant  speed 
And  hesitates  to  take  the  final  plunge, 

For  rumors  reach  her  that  another  greed 
Awaits  her  in  the  Valley  of  the  Sponge. 

The  Brothers  envy  the  accord  of  mind 

And  peace  of  purpose  (by  the  good  deplored 

As  honor  among  Commissioners)  which  bind 
That  confraternity  of  crime,  the  Board. 

The  Half-Dome  bows  its  riven  face  to  weep, 
But  not,  as  formerly,  because  bereft : 

Prophetic  dreams  afflict  him  when  asleep 
Of  losing  his  remaining  half  by  theft. 

Ambitious  knaves  !  has  not  the  upper  sod 
Enough  of  room  for  every  crime  that  crawls 

But  you  must  loot  the  Palaces  of  God 

And  daub  your  filthy  names  upon  the  walls  ? 


JJLACK  BEETLES  IN  AMBER  189, 


DOWN  AMONG  THE  DEAD  MEN 

TTTITHIN  my  dark  and  narrow  bed 
^  ^       I  rested  well,  new-laid : 
I  heard  above  my  fleshless  head 
The  grinding  of  a  spade. 

A  gruffer  note  ensued  and  grew 
To  harsh  and  harsher  strains : 

The  poet  Welcker  then  I  knew 
Was  "snatching"  my  remains. 

'  O  Welcker,  let  your  hand  be  stayed 

And  leave  me  here  in  peace. 
Of  your  revenge  you  should  have  made 
An  end  with  my  decease." 

:'  Hush,  Mouldyshanks,  and  hear  my  moan 

I  once,  as  you're  aware, 
Was  eminent  in  letters — known 
And  honored  everywhere. 

"  My  splendor  made  all  Berkeley  bright 

And  Sacramento  blind. 
Men  swore  no  writer  e'er  could  write- 
Like  me — if  I'd  a  mind. 

'  With  honors  all  insatiate, 

With  curst  ambition  smit, 

Too  far,  alas  !  I  tempted  fate — 

I  published  what  I'd  writ ! 


.190  BLACK  BEETLES  AV  AMBER 

' '  Good  Heaven  !  with  what  a  hunger  wild 

Oblivion  swallows  fame ! 
Men  who  have  known  me  from  a  child 
Forget  my  very  name  ! 

' '  Even  creditors  with  searching  looks 

My  face  cannot  recall  ; 
My  heaviest  one — he  prints  my  books — 
Oblivious  most  of  all. 

' '  O  I  should  feel  a  sweet  content 

If  one  poor  dun  his  claim 
Would  bring  to  me  for  settlement, 
And  bully  me  by  name. 

• '  My  dog  is  at  my  gate  forlorn  ; 

It  howls  through  all  the  night, 
And  wrheii  I  greet  it  in  the  morn 
It  answers  with  a  bite  !  " 

"  O  Poet,  what  in  Satan's  name 

To  me's  all  this  aclo  ? 
Will  snatching  me  restore  the  fame 
That  printing  snatched  from  you?'1 

"  Peace,  dread  Remains  ;  I'm  not  about 

To  do  a  deed  of  sin. 
I  come  not  here  to  hale  you  out — 
I'm  trying  to  get  in." 


tiLACK  BEETLES  IN  AMUER  191 


THE   LAST   MAN 

T  DREAMED  that  Gabriel  took  his  horn 

-J-     On  Resurrection's  fateful  morn, 

And  lighting  upon  Laurel  Hill 

Blew  long,  blew  loud,  blew  high  and  shrill. 

The  houses  compassing  the  ground 

Rattled  their  windows  at  the  sound. 

But  no  one  rose.      ' '  Alas  ! ' '  said  he, 

What  lazy  bones  these  mortals  be  !  " 

Again  he  plied  the  horn,  again 

Deflating  both  his  lungs  in  vain  ; 

Then  stood  astonished  and  chagrined 

At  raising  nothing  but  the  wind. 

At  last  he  caught  the  tranquil  eye 

Of  an  observer  standing  bj* — 

Last  of  mankind,  not  doomed  to  die. 

To  him  thus  Gabriel :    "  Sir,  I  pray 

This  mystery  you'll  clear  away. 

Why  do  I  sound  my  note  in  vain  ? 

Why  spring  they  not  from  out  the  plain  ? 

Where's  Luning,  Blythe  and  Michael  Reese, 

Ma  gee,  who  ran  the  Golden  Fleece  / 

Where's  Asa  Fisk  ?     Jim  Phelan,  who 

Was  thought  to  know  a  thing  or  two 

Of  land  which  rose  but  never  sank? 

Where's  Con  O'Conor  of  the  Bank, 

And  all  who  consecrated  lands 

Of  old  bv  lav in< 


192  BLACK  BEETLES  IN  AMBER 

I  ask  of  them  because  their  worth 

Was  known  in  all  they  wished — the  earth. 

Brisk  boomers  once,  alert  and  wise, 

Why  don't  they  rise,  why  don't  they  rise?  " 

The  man  replied  :    "  Reburied  long 

With  others  of  the  shrouded  throng 

In  San  Mateo — carted  there 

And  dumped  promiscuous,  anywhere, 

In  holes  and  trenches — all  misfits — 

Mixed  up  with  one  another's  bits : 

One's  back-bone  with  another's  shin, 

A  third  one's  skull  with  a  fourth  one's  grin- 

Your  eye  was  never,  never  fixed 

Upon  a  company  so  mixed  ! 

Go  now  among  them  there  and  blow : 

'Twill  be  as  good  as  any  show 

To  see  them,  when  they  hear  the  tones, 

Compiling  one  another's  bones  ! 

But  here  'tis  vain  to  sound  and  wait : 

Xaught  rises  here  but  real  estate. 

I  own  it  all  and  shan't  disgorge. 

Don't  know  me?     I  am  Henry  George." 


ARBOR   DAY 

Hasten,  children,  black  and  white — 
Celebrate  the  yearly  rite. 
Every  pupil  plant  a  tree  : 
It  will  grow  some  day  to  be 
Big  and  strong  enough  to  bear 
A  School  Director  hanging  there. 


BLACK  BEETLES  IN  AMBER  193 


THE    PIUTK 

T  TNBKAUTIFUL  is  the  Piute  I 
^    Howe'er  bedecked  with  bravery, 

His  person  is  unsavory — 
Of  soap  he's  destitute. 

He  multiplies  upon  the  earth 
In  spite  of  all  admonishing  ; 
All  censure  his  astonishing 

And  versatile  un worth. 

Upon  the  Reservation  wide 
We  give  for  his  inhabiting 
He  goes  a-jackass  rabbiting 

To  furnish  his  inside. 

Tha  hopper  singing  in  the  grass 

He  seizes  \vith  avidity  : 

He  loves  its  tart  acidity, 
And  gobbles  all  that  pass. 

He  penetrates  the  spider's  veil, 
Industriously  pillages 
The  toads'  defenseless  villages, 

And  shadows  home  the  snail. 

He  lightly  runs  to  earth  the  quaint 
Red  worm  and,  deftly  troweling,. 
He  makes  it  with  his  boweling 

Familiarly  acquaint. 


J94  BLACK  BEETLES  IN  AMBER 

He  tracks  the  pine-nut  to  its  lair, 
Surrounds  it  with  celerity, 
Regards  it  with  asperity — 

Smiles,  and  it  isn't  there  ! 

I  wish  he'd  open  up  a  grin 
Of  adequate  vivacity 
And  carrying  capacity 

To  take  his  Agent  in. 


FAME 

HE  held  a  book  in  his  knotty  paws, 
And  its  title  grand  read  he : 
<c  The  Chronicles  of  the  Kings  "  it  was, 

By  the  History  Companee. 
I'm  a  monarch,"  he  said 
(But  a  tear  he  shed) 
"  And  my  picter  here  you  see. 

Great  and  lasting  is  my  renown, 
However  the  wits  may  flout — 

As  wide  almost  as  this  blessed  town ' ' 
(But  he  winced  as  if  with  gout). 

I  paid  'em  like  sin 

For  to  put  me  in, 

But  it's  O,  and  O,  to  be  out !  " 


BLACK  BEETLES  IN  AMBER  195 


ONE   OF   THE   REDEEMED 

O  AINT  PETER,  standing  at  the  Gate,  beheld 
^     A  soul  whose  body  Death  had  lately  felled. 

A  pleasant  soul  as  ever  was,  he  seemed  : 
His  step  was  joyous  and  his  visage  beamed. 

"  Good  morning,  Peter."     There  was  just  a  touch 
Of  foreign  accent,  but  not  overmuch. 

The  Saint  bent  gravely,  like  a  stately  tree, 

And  said:    "You  have  the  advantage,  sir,  of  me." 

'  Renan  of  Paris,"  said  the  immortal  part — 
'  A  master  of  the  literary  art. 

'  I'm  somewhat  famous,  too,  I  grieve  to  tell, 
As  controversialist  and  infidel." 

'  That's  of  no  consequence,"  the  Saint  replied, 
'  Why,  I  myself  my  Master  once  denied. 

' '  Xo  one  up  here  cares  anything  for  that. 
But  is  there  nothing  you  were  always  at  ? 

"  It  seems  to  me  you  were  accused  one  day 
Of  something — what  it  was  I  can't  just  say." 

' '  Quite  likely, ' '  said  the  other  ;   ' '  but  I  swear 
My  life  was  irreproachable  and  fair." 


196  BLACK  BEETLES  IN  AMBER 

Just  then  a  soul  appeared  upon  the  wall, 
Singing  a  hymn  as  loud  as  he  could  bawl. 

About  his  head  a  golden  halo  gleamed, 
As  well  befitted  one  of  the  redeemed. 

A  harp  he  bore  and  vigorously  thumbed, 
Strumming  he  sang,  and,  singing,  ever  strummed, 

His  countenance,  suffused  with  holy  pride. 
Glowed  like  a  pumpkin  with  a  light  inside. 

il  Ah  !  that's  the  chap,"  said  Peter,  "  who  declares  : 
'  Kenan's  a  rake  and  drunkard — smokes  and  swears.' 

"  Yes,  that's  the  fellow — he's  a  preacher — came 
From  San  Francisco.     Mansfield  was  his  name." 

i(  Do  you  believe  him?  "  said  Kenan.      "Great  Scott ! 
Believe?     Believe  the  blackguard ?     Of  course  not! 

"  Just  walk  right  in  and  make  yourself  at  home. 
And  if  he  pecks  at  }-ou  I'll  cut  his  comb. 

"  He's  only  here  because  the  Devil  swore 

He  wouldn't  have  him,  for  the  smile  he  wore.'* 

Resting   his    eyes   one   moment  on  that  proof 
Of  saving  grace,  the  Frenchman  turned  aloof, 

And  stepping  down  from  cloud  to  cloud,  said  he : 
{t  Thank  you,  monsieur, — I'll  see  if  he'll  have  me." 


XLACK  BEETLES  IX  AMBER  197 


A   CRITIC 

[Apparently  the  Cleveland  Leader  is  not  a  good  judge  of 
poetry. —  The  Morning  Ca!I.~\ 

THAT  fromjj'0«,  neighbor  !  to  whose  vacant  lot 
Bach  rhyming  literary  knacker  scourges 
His  cart-compelling  Pegasus  to  trot, 
As  folly,  fame  or  famine  smartly  urges  ? 

Admonished  by  the  stimulating  goad, 

How  gaily,  lo  !  the  spavined  crow-bait  prances — 
Its  cart  before  it — eager  to  unload 

The  dead-dog  sentiments  and  swill-tub  fancies. 

Gravely  the  sweating  scavenger  pulls  out 
The  tail-board  of  his  curst  imagination, 

Shoots  all  his  rascal  rubbish,  and,  no  doubt, 
Thanks  Fortune  for  so  good  a  dumping-station. 

To  improve  your  property,  the  vile  cascade 
Your  thrift  invites — to  make  a  higher  level. 

In  vain  :  with  tons  of  garbage  overlaid, 

Your  baseless  bog  sinks  slowly  to  the  devil. 

;'  Rubbish  may  be  shot  here  " — familiar  sign  ! 

I  seem  to  see  it  in  your  every  column. 
You  have  your  wishes,  but  if  I  had  mine 

'Twould  to  your  editor  mean  something  solemn. 


198  BLACK  BEETLES  IN  AMBER 


A  QUESTION  OF  ELIGIBILITY 

IT  was  a  bruised  and  battered  chap 
The  victim  of  some  dire  mishap, 
Who  sat  upon  a  rock  and  spent 
His  breath  in  this  ungay  lament : 

"  Some  wars — I've  frequent  heard  of such- 
Has  beat  the  everlastin'  Dutch  ! 
But  never  fight  was  fit  by  man 
To  equal  this  which  has  began 
In  our  (I'm  in  it,  if  you  please) 
Academy  of  Sciences. 
For  there  is  various  gents  belong 
To  it  which  go  persistent  wrong, 
And  loving  the  debates'  delight 
Calls  one  another  names  at  sight. 
Their  disposition,  too,  accords 
With  fighting  like  they  all  was  lords  ! 
Sech  impulses  should  be  withstood : 
'Tis  scientific  to  be  good. 

"'Twas  one  of  them,  one  night  last  week, 
Rose  up  his  figure  for  to  speak : 

'  Please,  Mr.  Chair,  I'm  holding  here 
A  resolution  which,  I  fear, 
Some  ancient  fossils  that  has  bust 


BLACK  BEETLES  IN  AMBER  199 

Their  cases  and  shook  off  their  dust 
To  sit  as  Members  here  will  find 
Unpleasant,  not  to  say  unkind. ' 
And  then  he  read  it  every  word, 
And  silence  fell  on  all  which  heard. 
That  resolution,  wild  and  strange, 
Proposed  a  fundamental  change, 
Which  was  that  idiots  no  more 
Could  join  us  as  they  had  before ! 

"  No  sooner  was  he  seated  than 
The  members  rose  up,  to  a  man. 
Each  chap  was  primed  with  a  reply 
And  tried  to  snatch  the  Chairman 's  eye. 
They  stomped  and  shook  their  fists  in  air, 
And,  O,  what  words  was  uttered  there  ! 

'The  Chair  was  silent,  but  at  last 
He  hove  up  his  proportions  vast 
And  stilled  them  tumults  with  a  look 
By  which  the  undauntedest  was  shook. 
He  smiled  sarcastical  and  said  : 

*  If  Argus  was  the  Chair,  instead 
Of  me,  he'd  lack  enough  of  eyes 
Each  orator  to  recognize  ! 
And  since,  denied  a  hearing,  you 
Might  maybe  undertake  to  do 
Each  other  harm  before  you  cease, 
I've  took  some  steps  to  keep  the  peace : 
I've  ordered  out — alas,  alas, 
That  Science  e'er  to  such  a  pass 
Should  come  ! — I've  ordered  out — the  gas  ! ' 


200  BLACK  BEETLES  IN  AMBER 

"  O  if  a  tongue  or  pen  of  fire 
Was  mine  I  could  not  tell  entire 
What  the  ensuin'  actions  was. 
When  swollered  up  in  darkness'  jaws 
We  fit  and  fit  and  fit  and  fit, 
And  everything  we  felt  we  hit ! 
We  gouged,  we  scratched  and  we  pulled  hair, 
And  O,  what  words  was  uttered  there  ! 
And  when  at  last  the  day  dawn  came 
Three  hundred  Scientists  was  lame ; 
Two  hundred  others  couldn't  stand, 
They'd  been  so  careless  handled,  and 
One  thousand  at  the  very  least 
Was  spread  upon  the  floor  deceased  ! 
'Twere  easy  to  exaggerate, 
But  lies  is  things  I  mortal  hate. 

"Such,  friends,  is  the  disaster  sad 
Which  has  befel  the  Cal.  Acad. 
And  now  the  question  is  of  more 
Importance  than  it  was  before  : 
Shall  vacancies  among  us  be 
To  idiots  threw  open  free  ?  ' ' 


FLEET  STROTHER 

What !  you  were  born,  you  animated  doll, 
Within  the  shadow  of  the  Capitol  ? 
'Twas  always  thought  (and  Bancroft  so  assures 
His  trusting  readers)  it  was  reared  in  yours. 


BLACK  BEETLES  IN  AMBER  201 


CALIFORNIA^  SUMMER  PICTURES 

THE;     FOOT-HILI,     RESORT 

A  SSEMBLED  in  the  parlor 
-£^-     Of  the  place  of  last  resort, 
The  smiler  and  the  snarler 

And  the  guests  of  every  sort — 
The  elocution  chap 
With  rhetoric  on  tap  ; 
The  mimic  and  the  funny  dog  ; 
The  social  sponge  ;  the  money-hog ; 
Vulgarian  and  dude  ; 

And  the  prude  ; 
The  adiposing  dame 
With  pimply  face  aflame  ; 
The  kitten-playful  virgin — 
Yergin'  on  to  fifty  years  ; 
The  solemn-looking  sturgeon 

Of  a  firm  of  auctioneers  ; 
The  widower  flirtatious ; 
The  widow  all  too  gracious  ; 

The  man  with  a  proboscis  and  a  sepulcher  beneath. 
One  assassin  picks  the  banjo,  and  another  picks  his 
teeth. 

AT     ANCHOR 

The  soft  asphaltum  in  the  sun ; 
Betrays  a  tendency  to  run  ; 


LLACK  BEETLES  IN  AMBER 

Whereas  the  dog  that  takes  his  way 
Across  its  course  concludes  to  stay. 

THE     IN-COMING     CLIMATE 

Now  o'  nights  the  ocean  breeze 

Makes  the  patient  flinch, 
For  that  zephyr  bears  a  sneeze 

In  every  cubic  inch. 
Lo  !  the  lively  population 
Chorusing  in  sternutation 
A  catarrhal  acclamation  ! 

A    LONG-FELT    WANT 

Dimly  apparent,  through  the  gloom 
Of  Market-street's  opaque  simoom, 
A  queue  of  people,  parti-sexed, 
Awaiting  the  command  of  "  Next !  " 
A  sidewalk  booth,  a  dingy  sign : 
' '  Teeth  dusted  nice — five  cents  a  shine. " 

TO  THE  HAPPY  HUNTING  GROUNDS 

Wide  windy  reaches  of  high  stubble  field  ; 

A  long  gray  road,  bordered  with  dusty  pines  ; 

A  wagon  moving  in  a  "  cloud  by  day." 

Two  city  sportsmen  with  a  dove  between, 

Breast-high  upon  a  fence  and  fast  asleep— 

A  solitary  dove,  the  only  dove 

In  twenty  counties,  and  it  sick,  or  else 

It  were  not  there.     Two  guns  that  fire  as  one, 

With  thunder  simultaneous  and  loud  ; 

Two  shattered  human  wrecks  of  blood  and  bone  ! 

And  later,  in  the  gloaming,  comes  a  man — 

The  worthy  local  coroner  is  he, 


BLACK  BEETLES  IN  AMBER  203 

Renowned  all  thereabout,  and  popular 

With  many  a  remain.     All  tenderly 

Compiling  in  a  game-bag  the  debris, 

He  glides  into  the  gloom  and  fades  from  sight. 

The  dove,  cured  of  its  ailment  by  the  shock, 

Has  flo\vn,  meantime,  on  pinions  strong  and  fleet, 

To  die  of  age  in  some  far  foreign  land. 


SLAXDER 

FITCH  : 

'•'  All  vices  }rou've  exhausted,  friend; 
So  all  the  papers  say. ' ' 

PICKERING  : 

<{  Ah,  what  vile  calumnies  are  penned  ! — 
'Tis  just  the  other  way." 


JAMES  L.  FLOOD 

AS  oft  it  happens  in  the  youth  of  day 
-^-  That  mists  obscure  the  sun's  imperfect  ray, 
Who,  as  he's  mounting  to  the  dome's  extreme, 
Smites  and  dispels  them  with  a  steeper  beam, 
So  you  the  vapors  that  begirt  your  birth 
Consumed,  and  manifested  all  your  worth. 
But  still  one  early  vice  obstructs  the  light 
And  sullies  all  the  visible  and  bright 
Display  of  mind  and  character.     You  write. 


204  BLACK  BEETLES  IN  AMBER 


FOUR   CANDIDATES    FOR  SENATOR 

TO  flatter  your  way  to  the  goad  of  your  hope, 
O  plausible  Mr.  Perkins, 
You'll  need  ten  tons  of  the  softest  soap 

And  butter  a  thousand  firkins. 
The  soap  you  could  put  to  a  better  use 

In  washing  your  hands  of  ambition 
Ere  the  butter's  used  for  cooking  your  goose 
To  a  beautiful  brown  condition. 


The  Railroad  can't  run  Stanford."     That  is  so — 
The  tail  can't  curl  the  pig  ;   but  then,  you  know. 

Inside  the  vegetable-garden's  pale 

The  pig  will  eat  more  cabbage  than  the  tail. 


When  Sargent  struts  by  all  the  lawmakers  say : 
"  Right— left !  "     It  is  fair  to  infer 
The  right  will  get  left,  nor  polar  the  day 
When  he  makes  that  thing  to  occur. 

Not  so,  not  so,  'tis  a  joke,  that  cry — 

Foolish  and  dull  and  small : 
He  so  bores  them  for  votes  that  they  mean  to  imply 

He's  a  drill-Sargent,  that  is  all. 

Gods  !  what  a  sight !  Astride  McClure's  broad  back 
Estce  jogs  round  the  Senatorial  track, 
The  crowd  all  undecided,  as  they  pass, 


BLACK  BEETLES  IN  AMBER  205 

Whether  to  cheer  the  man  or  cheer  the  ass. 
They  stop :  the  man  to  lower  his  feet  is  seen 
And  the  tired  beast,  withdrawing  from  between, 
Mounts,  as  they  start  again,  the  biped's  neck, 
And  scarce  the  crowd  can  say  which  one's  on  deck. 


A   GROWLER 

JUDGE  SHAFTER,  you're  an  aged  man,  I  know 
And  learned  too,  I  doubt  not,  in  the  lav/  ; 
And  a  head  white  with  many  a  winter's  snow 

(I  wish,  however  that  your  heart  would  thaw) 

Claims  reverence  and  honor  ;  but  the  jaw 
That's  always  wagging  with  a  word  malign, 

Nagging  and  scolding  every  one  in  sight 
As  harshly  as  a  jaybird  in  a  pine, 

And  with  as  little  sense  of  wrong  and  right 
As  animates  that  irritable  creature, 
Is  not  a  very  venerable  feature. 

You  damn  all  witnesses,  all  jurors  too 
(And  swear  at  the  attorneys,  I  suppose, 

But  that's  commendable)  "  till  all  is  blue"  ; 
And  what  it's  all  about,  the  good  Lord  knows, 
Not  you  ;  but  all  the  hotter,  fiercer  glows 

Your  wrath  for  that — as  dogs  the  louder  howl 
With  only  moonshine  to  incite  their  rage, 

And  bears  with  more  ferocious  menace  growl, 
Even  when  their  food  is  flung  into  the  cage. 

Reform,  your  Honor,  and  forbear  to  curse  us. 

Lest  all  men,  hearing  you,  cry  :   <c  Ecce  ursiis  !  " 


206  BLACK  BEETLES  IN  AMBER 


AD    MOODIUM 

TUT  1  Moody,  do  not  try  to  show 
To  gentlemen  and  ladies 
That  if  they  have  not  "  Faith,"  they'll  go 
Headlong  to  Hades. 

Faith  is  belief  ;  and  how  can  I 
Have  that  by  being  willing  ? 
This  dime  I  cannot,  though  I  try, 
Believe  a  shilling. 

Perhaps  you  can.     If  so,  pray  do  — 

Believe  you  own  it,  also. 
But  what  seems  evidence  to  you 
r  not  call  so. 


Heaven  knows  I'd  like  the  Faith  to  think 

This  little  vessel's  contents 

Are  liquid  gold.     1  see  'tis  ink 

For  writing  nonsense. 

Minds  prone  to  Faith,  however,  may 

Come  now  and  then  to  sorrow  : 
They  put  their  trust  in  truth  to-day, 
In  lies  to-morrow. 

No  doubt  the  happiness  is  great 

To  think  as  one  would  wish  to  ; 
But  not  to  swallow  every  bait, 
As  certain  fish  do. 


BLACK  BEETLES  IN  AMBER  207 

To  think  a  snake  a  cord,  I  hope, 
Would  bolden  and  delight  me  ; 
But  some  day  I  might  think  a  rope 
Would  chase  and  bite  me. 

Curst  Reason  !     Faith  forever  blest ! " 

You're  crying  all  the  season. 
Well,  who  decides  that  Faith  is  best? 
Why,  Mr.  Reason. 

He's  right  or  wrong;  he  answers  you 

According  to  your  folly, 
And  says  what  you  have  taught  him  to, 
Like  any  polly. 


AN   EPITAPH 

TTAXGMAX'S  hands  laid  in  this  tomb  an 

•*"!•     Imp  of  Satan's  getting,  whom  an 

Ancient  legend  says  that  woman 
Never  bore — he  owed  his  birth 
To  Sin  herself.     From  Hell  to  Earth 
She  brought  the  brat  in  secret  state 
And  laid  him  at  the  Golden  gate, 

And  they  named  him  Henry  Vrooman. 
While  with  mortals  here  he  stayed, 
His  father  frequently  lie  played. 

Raised  his  birth-place  and  in  other 

Playful  ways  begot  his  mother. 


2o8  BLACK  BEETLES  IN  AMBER 


A   SPADE 

[The  spade  that  was  used  to  turn  the  first  sod  in  the  con 
struction  of  the  Central  Pacific  Railroad  is  to  be  exhibited  at 
the  New  Orleans  Exposition. — Press  Telegram.'} 

T)RECURSOR  of  our  woes,  historic  -pade, 
-*•     What  dismal  records  burn  upon  thy  blade ! 
On  thee  I  see  the  maculating  stains 
Of  passengers'  commingled  blood  and  brains. 
In  this  red  rust  a  widow's  curse  appears, 
And  here  an  orphan  tarnished  thee  with  tears. 
Upon  thy  handle  sanguinary  bands 
Reveal  the  clutching  of  thine  owner's  hands 
When  first  he  wielded  thee  with  vigor  brave 
To  cut  a  sod  and  dig. a  people's  grave— 
(For  they  wrho  are  debauched  are  dead  and  ought, 
In  God's  name,  to  be  hid  from  sight  and  thought.) 
Within  thee,  as  writhin  a  magic  glass, 
I  seem  to  see  a  foul  procession  pass — 
Judges  with  ermine  dragging  in  the  mud 
And  spotted  here  and  there  with  guiltless  blood  ; 
Gold-greedy  legislators  jingling  bribes  ; 
Kept  editors  and  sycophantic  scribes  ; 
Liars  in  swarms  and  plunderers  in  tribes  \ 
They  fade  away  before  the  night's  advance, 
And  fancy  figures  thee  a  devil's  lance 
Gleaming  portentous  through  the  misty  shade, 
While  ghosts  of  murdered  virtues  shriek  al^out  my 
blade  1 


21  LACK:  BEETLES  IN  AMBER  209 


THE  VAN  NHSSIAD 

FROM  end  to  end,  thine  avenue,  Van  Ness, 
Rang  with  the  cries  of  battle  and  distress  ! 
Brave  lungs  were  thundering  with  dreadful  sound 
And  perspiration  smoked  along  the  ground  ! 
Sing,  heavenly  muse,  to  ears  of  mortal  clay, 
The  meaning,  cause  and  finish  of  the  fray. 

Great  Porter  Ashe  (invoking  first  the  gods, 
Who  signed  their  favor  with  assenting  nods 
That  snapped  off  half  their  heads — their  necks  grown 

dry 

Since  last  the  nectar  cup  went  circling  by) 
Resolved  to  build  a  stable  on  his  lot, 
His  neighbors  fiercely  swearing  he  should  not. 
Said  he  :   "  I  build  that  stable !  "    "No,  you  don't," 
Said  they.      "I  can!"      "You  can't!"      "I  will!" 

"  You  won't !  " 

"  By  heaven  !  "  he  swore  ;   "  not  only  will  I  build, 
But  purchase  donkeys  till  the  place  is  filled !  " 
"  Needless  expense,"  they  sneered  in  tones  of  ice — 
'  The  owner's  self,  if  lodged  there,  would  suffice.  " 
For  three  long  months  the  awful  wrar  they  waged  : 
With  women,  women,  men  with  men  engaged, 
While  roaring  babes  and  shrilling  poodles  raged  1 

Jove,  from  Olympus,  where  he  still  maintains 
His  ancient  session  (with  rheumatic  pains 


2io  BLACK  BEETLES  IN  AMBER 

Touched  by  his  long  exposure)  marked  the  strife, 

Interminable  but  by  loss  of  life  ; 

For  malediction  soon  exhausts  the  breath— 

If  not,  old  age  itself  is  certain  death. 

Lo  !  he  holds  high  in  heaven  the  fatal  beam  ; 

A  golden  pan  depends  from  each  extreme  ; 

This  feels  of  Porter's  fate  the  downward  stress, 

That  bears  the  destiny  of  all  Van  Xess. 

Alas  !  the  rusted  scales,  their  life  all  gone, 

Deliver  judgment  neither  pro  nor  con  : 

The  dooms  hang  level  and  the  war  goes  on. 

With  a  divine,  contemptuous  disesteem 

Jove  dropped  the  pans  and  kicked,  himself,  the  beam  : 

Then,  to  decide  the  strife,  with  ready  wit, 

The  nickel  that  he  did  not  care  for  it 

Twirled  absently,  remarking  :     "  See  it  spin  : 

Head,  Porter  loses  ;  tail,  the  others  win. " 

The  conscious  nickel,  charged  with  doom,  spun  round, 

Portentously  and  made  a  ringing  sound, 

Then,  staggering  beneath  its  load  of  fate, 

Sank  rattling,  died  at  last  and  lay  in  state. 

Jove  scanned  the  disk  and  then,  as  is  his  wont, 
Raised  his  considering  orbs,  exclaiming :  "  Front  ! ' ' 
With  leisurely  alacrity  approached 
The  herald  god,  to  whom  his  mind  he  broached  : 
"  In  San  Francisco  two  belligerent  Powers, 
Such  as  contended  round  great  Ilion's  towers, 
Fight  for  a  stable,  though  in  either  class 
There's  not  a  horse,  and  but  a  single  ass. 
Achilles  Ashe,  with  formidable  jaw 
Assails  a  Trojan  band  with  fierce  hee-haw, 


BL  A  CA'  BEE  TL  ES  IN  A  MBER  2 1 1 

Firing  the  night  with  brilliant  curses.     They 

With  dark  vituperation  gloom  the  day. 

Fate,  against  which  nor  gods  nor  men  compete, 

Decrees  their  victory  and  his  defeat. 

With  haste,  good  Mercury,  betake  thee  hence 

And  salivate  him  till  he  has  no  sense  !  " 

Sheer  downward  shot  the  messenger  afar, 
Trailing  a  splendor  like  a  falling  star ! 
With  dimming  lustre  through  the  air  he  burned, 
Vanished,  nor  till  another  sun  returned. 
The  sovereign  of  the  gods  superior  smiled, 
Beaming  benignant,  fatherly  and  mild  : 
k<  Is  Destiny's  decree  performed,  my  lad? — 
And  has  he  now  no   sense?"       "Ah,  sire,  he  never 
had." 


A  FISH  COMMISSIONER 

Great  Joseph  D.  Redding — illustrious  name  !— 
Considered  a  fish-horn  the  trumpet  of  Fame. 
That  goddess  was  angry,  and  what  do  you  think  ? 
Her  trumpet  she  filled  with  a  gallon  of  ink, 
And  all  through  the  Press,  with  a  devilish  glee, 
She  sputtered  and  spattered  the  name  of  J.  D. 


212  BLACK  BEETLES  IN  AMBER 


TO   A   STRAY   DOG 

WELL,  Towser  (I'm  thinking  your  name  must  be 
Towser), 

You're  a  decentish  puppy  as  puppy  clogs  go. 
For  you  never,  I'm  sure,  could  have  dined  upon  trow- 

ser, 
And  your  tail's  unimpeachably  curled  just  so. 

But,  dear  me  !  your  name — if  'tis  yours — is  a  "poser  " ; 

Its  meaning  I  cannot  get  anywise  at. 
When  spoken  correctly  perhaps  it  is  Toser, 

And  means  one  who  toses.   Max  Muller,  how 's  that  ? 

I  ne'er  was  ingenious  at  all  at  divining 
A  word's  prehistorical,  primitive  state, 

Or  finding  its  root,  like  a  mole,  by  consigning 
Its  bloom  to  the  turnep- top's  sorrowful  fate, 

And,  now  that  I  think  of  it  well,  I'm  no  nearer 
The  riddle's  solution  than  ever — for  how's 

My  pretty  invented  word,  "  tose,"  any  clearer 
In  point  of  its  signification  than  "  towse  "? 

So,  Towser  (or  Toser),  I  mean  to  rename  you 
In  honor  of  some  good  and  eminent  man, 

In  the  light  and  the  heat  of  whose  quickening  fame 

you 
May  grow  to  an  eminent  dog  if  you  can, 


P.LACK  BEETLES  IX  AMBER  213 

In  sunshine  like  his  you'll  not  long  be  a  crouclier  : 
The  Senate  shall  hear  you — for  that  I  will  vouch. 

Come  here,  sir.    Stand  up.    I  rechristen  you  Goucher. 
But  damn  you  !  I'll  shoot  you  if  ever  you  gouch  ! 


IN   HIS   HAND 

DE  YOUNG  (in  Chicago  the  story  is  told) 
"Took  his  life  in  his  hand,"  like  a  warrior  bold, 
And  stood  before  Buckley — who  thought  him  behind, 
For  Buckley,  the  man-eating  monster  is  blind. 
"  Count  fairly  the  ballots  ! "  so  rang  the  demand 
Of  the  gallant  De  Young,  with  his  life  in  his  hand. 
'Tis  done,  and  the  struggle  is  ended.     No  more 
He  havocs  the  battle-field,  gilt  with  the  gore 
Of  slain  reputations.     No  more  he  defies 
His  "lying  opponents"  with  deadlier  lies. 
His  trumpet  is  hushed  and  his  belt  is  unbound — 
His  enemies'  characters  cumber  the  ground. 
They  bloat  on  the  war-plain  with  ink  all  asoak, 
The  fortunate  candidates  perching  to  croak. 
No  more  he  will  charge,  with  a  daring  divine, 
His  foes  with  corruption,  his  friends  by  the  line. 
The  thunders  are  stilled  of  the  horrid  campaign, 
De  Young  is  triumphant,  and  never  again 
Will  he  need,  with  his  life  in  his  hand,  to  roar  : 

u  Count  fair  or,  by  G ,  I  will  die  on  your  floor  !  " 

His  life  has  been  spared,  for  his  sins  to  atone, 

And  the  hand  that  he  took  it  in  washed  with  cologne. 


214  Li  LACK  BEETLES  IN  AMBER 


A   DEMAGOGUE 


,  yawp,  yawp  ! 
-*-     Under  the  moon  and  sun. 
It's  aye  the  rabble, 
And  I  to  gabble, 
And  hey  !  for  the  tale  that  is  never  done. 

"  Chant,  chant,  chant  ! 
To  woo  the  reluctant  vote. 
I  would  I  were  dead 
And  my  say  were  said 
And  my  song  were  sung  to  its  ultimate  note. 

"  Stab,  stab,  stab  ! 

Ah  !   the  weapon  between  my  teeth  — 
I'm  sick  of  the  flash  of  it  ; 
See  how  the  slash  of  it 
Misses  the  foeman  to  mangle  the  sheath  ! 

'  Boom,  boom,  boom! 
I'm  beating  the  mammoth  drum. 
My  nethermost  tripes 
I  blow  into  the  pipes  — 
It's  oh  !  for  the  honors  that  never  come  !  " 

'Twas  the  dolorous  blab 
Of  a  tramping  *  '  scab  '  '  — 


BLACK  BEETLES  IN  AMBER  215 

'Twas  the  eloquent  Swift 
Of  the  marvelous  gift — 
The  wild,  weird,  wonderful  gift  of  gab  ! 


IGNIS   FATUUS 

WEEP,  weep,  each  loyal  partisan, 
For  Buckley,  king  of  hearts  ; 
A  most  accomplished  man  ;  a  man 
Of  parts — of  foreign  parts. 

L,ong  years  he  ruled  with  gentle  sway, 

Xor  grew  his  glory  dim  ; 
And  he  would  be  with  us  to-day 

If  we  were  but  with  him. 

Men  wondered  at  his  going  off 

In  such  a  sudden  way ; 
'Twas  thought,  as  he  had  come  to  scoff 

He  would  remain  to  prey. 

Since  he  is  gone  we're  all  agreed 

That  he  is  what  men  call 
A  crook  :  his  very  steps,  indeed, 

Are  bent — to  Montreal. 

So  let  our  tears  unhindered  flowT, 
Our  sighs  and  groans  have  way : 

It  matters  not  how  much  we  Oh ! — 
The  devil  is  to  pay. 


216  BLACK  BEETLES  IN  AMBER 


FROM  TOP  TO  BOTTOM 

[Japan  has  73,759  Buddhist  priests,  "  most  of -whom,"  says 
a  Christian  missionary,  "are  grossly  ignorant,  and  many  of 
them  lead  scandalous  lives."] 

O  BUDDHA,  had  you  but  foreknown 
The  vices  of  your  priesthood 
It  would  have  made  you  twist  and  moan 

As  any  wounded  beast  would. 
You  would  have  damned  the  entire  lot 
And  turned  a  Christian,  would  you  not? 

There  were  no  Christians,  I  '11  allow, 

In  j'our  day  ;  that  would  only 
Have  brought  distinction.     Even  now 

A  Christian  might  feel  lonely. 
All  take  the  name,  but  facts  are  things 
As  stubborn  as  the  will  of  kings. 

The  priests  were  ignorant  and  low 

When  ridiculed  by  Lucian ; 
The  records,  could  we  read,  might  show 

The  same  of  times  Confucian. 
And  yet  the  fact  I  can't  disguise 
That  Deacon  Rankin's  good  and  wise. 

'Tis  true  he  is  not  quite  a  priest, 

Nor  more  than  half  a  preacher ; 
But  he  exhorts  as  loud  at  least 


BLACK  BEETLES  AY  A MDEK  217 

As  any  living  creature. 
And  when  the  plate  is  passed  about 
He  never  takes  a  penny  out. 

From  Buddha  down  to  Rankin  !  There, — • 

I  never  did  intend  to. 
This  pen's  a  buzzard's  quill,  I  swear. 

Such  subjects  to  descend  to. 
When  from  the  humming-bird  I've  wrung 
A  plume  I'll  write  of  Mike  de  Young> 


AX  IDLER 

"\TTHO  told  Creed  Haymond  he  was  witty? — who 

^  ^       Had  nothing  better  in  this  world  to  do  ? 
Could  no  greased  pig's  appeal  to  his  embrace 
Kindle  his  ardor  for  the  friendly  chase  ? 
Did  no  dead  dog  upon  a  vacant  lot, 
Bloated  and  bald,  or  curdled  in  a  clot, 
Stir  his  compassion  and  inspire  his  arms 
To  hide  from  human  eyes  its  faded  charms  ? 

If  not  to  works  of  piety  inclined, 

Then  recreation  might  have  claimed  his  mind. 

The  harmless  game  that  shows  the  feline  greed 

To  cinch  the  shorts  and  make  the  market  bleed* 

Is  better  sport  than  victimizing  Creed ; 

And  a  far  livelier  satisfaction  comes 

Of  knowing  Simon,  autocrat  of  thumbs. y 


2i8  BLACK'  BEETLES  IN  AMBER 

If  neither  worthy  work  nor  play  command 
This  gentleman  of  leisure's  heart  and  hand, 
Then  Mammon  might  his  idle  spirit  lift 
By  hope  of  profit  to  some  deed  of  thrift. 
Is  there  no  cheese  to  pare,  no  flint  to  skin, 
No  tin  to  mend,  no  glass  to  be  put  in, 
No  housewife  worthy  of  a  morning  visit, 
Her  rags  and  sacks  and  bottles  to  solicit? 
Lo !  the  blind  sow's  precarious  pursuit 
Of  the  aspiring  oak's  familiar  fruit ! — 
'Twould  more  advantage  any  man  to  steal 
This  easy  victim's  undefended  meal 
Than  tell  Creed  Raymond,  he  has  wit,  and  so 
Expose  the  state  to  his  narcotic  flow  ! 

*  ' '  Pussy  Wants  a  Corner. ' ' 
f  "  Simon  Says  Thumbs  Up." 


THE   DEAD   KING 

Hawaii's  King  resigned  his  breath — • 

Our  Legislature  guffawed. 
The  awful  dignity  of  death 

Not  any  single  rough  awed. 
But  when  our  Legislators  die 
All  Kings,  Queens,  Jacks  and  Aces  cry. 


BLACK  BEETLES  IN  AMtsER  219 


A   PATTER   SONG 

was  a  cranky  Governor — 
•*•       His  name  it  wasn't  Waterman. 

For  office  he  was  hotter  than 
The  love  of  any  lover,  nor 
Was  Boruck's  threat  of  aiding  him 
Effective  in  dissuading  him — 

This   pig-headed,    big-headed,    singularly   self-con 
ceited  Governor  Nonwaterman. 

To  citrus  fairs,  et  cetera, 

He  went  about  philandering, 

To  pride  of  parish  pandering. 
He  knew  not  any  better — ah, 
His  early  education  had 
Not  taught  the  abnegation  fad — 

The    wool-witted,    bull-witted,    fabulously    feeble 
minded  king  of  gabble-ganderiiig ! 

He  conjured  up,  ad  libitum , 

With  postures  energetical, 

One  day  (this  is  prophetical) 
His  graces,  to  exhibit  'em. 
He  straddled  in  each  attitude, 
Four  parallels  of  latitude — 

The   slab-footed,    crab-footed,    galloping   gregarian 
of  presence  unsesthetical ! 


220  BLACK  BEETLES  IX  AMBER 

An  ancient  cow,  perceiving-  that 

His  powers  of  agility 

Transcended  her  ability 
(A  circumstance  for  grieving  at) 
Upon  her  horns  engrafted  him 
And  to  the  welkin  wafted  him — 

The  high-rolling,  sky-rolling,   hurtling  hallelujah- 
lad  of  peerless  volatility ! 


A    CALLER 

Y,  Goldenson,  you're  looking  very  well." 
Said  Death  as,  strolling  through  the  County 

Jail, 
He  entered  that  serene  assassin's  cell 

And  hung  his  hat  and  coat  upon  a  nail. 
I  think  that  life  in  this  secluded  spot 
Agrees  with  men  of  your  trade,  does  it  not?" 

Well,  3res,"  said  Goldensoii,  "  I  can't  complain: 
Life  anywhere — provided  it  is  mine — 

Agrees  with  me  ;  but  I  observe  with  pain 
That  still  the  people  murmur  and  repine. 

It  hurts  their  sense  of  harmony,  no  doubt, 

To  see  a  persecuted  man  grow  stout. ' ' 

O  no,  'tis  not  your  growing  stout,  "  said  Death, 

"  Which    makes   these    malcontents  complain  and 

scold — 
They  like  you  to  be,  somehow,  scant  of  breata. 


11  LACK  BEETLES  IN  AMBER  221 

What  they  object  to  is  your  growing  old. 
And — though  indifferent  to  lean  or  fat — 
I  don't  myself  entirely  favor  that.''' 

With  brows  that  met  above  the  orbs  beneath, 
And  nose  that  like  a  soaring  hawk  appeared, 

And  lifted  lip,  uncovering  his  teeth, 
The  Mamikellikiller  coldly  sneered  : 

O,  so  you  don't !     Well,  how  will  you  assuage 

Your  spongy  passion  for  the  blood  of  age?  " 

Death  with  a  clattering  convulsion  drew 
His  .coat  on,  hatted  his  unmeated  pow, 

Unbarred  the  door  and,  stepping  partly  through, 
Turned  and  made  answer  :   "I  will  show  you  how. 

I  'm  going  to  the  Bench  you  call  Supreme 

And  tap  the  old  women  who  sit  there  and  dream." 


THE  SHAFTER  SHAFTED 

WEI^L,  James  McMillan  Shafter,  you're  a  Judge — 
At  least  you  were  when  last  I  knew  of  you  ; 
And  if  the  people  since  have  made  you  budge 
I  did  not  notice  it.     I've  much  to  do 
Without  endeavoring  to  follow,  through 
The  miserable  squabbles,  dust  and  smudge, 
The  fate  of  even  the  veteran  contenders 
Who  fight  with  flying  colors  and  suspenders. 


222  BLACK  BEETLES  IN  AMBER 

Being  a  Judge,  'tis  natural  and  wrong 

That  you  should  villify  the  public  press — 

Save  while  you  are  a  candidate.     That  song 
Is  easy  quite  to  sing,  and  I  confess 
It  wins  applause  from  hearers  who  have  less 

Of  spiritual  graces  than  belong 

To  audiences  of  another  kidney — 

Men,  for  example,  like  Sir  Philip  Sidney. 

Newspapers,  so  you  say,  don't  always  treat 
The  Judges  with  respect.     That  may  be  so 

And  still  110  harm  done,  for  I  swear  I'll  eat 
My  legs  and  in  the  long  hereafter  go, 
Snake-like,  upon  my  belly  if  you'll  show 

All  Judges  are  respectable  and  sweet. 

For  some  of  them  are  rogues  and  the  world's  laughter's 

Directed  at  some  others,  for  they're  Shafters. 


THE  MUMMERY 


THE   TWO    CAVEES 

DRAMATIS    PERSONA. 

PITCH a  Fetter  of  Railrogues 

PICKERING  his  Partner,  an  -Enemy  to  Sin 

OLD  NICK a  General  Blackwasher 

DEAD  CAT a  Missile 

ANTIQUE  EGG Another 

RAILROGUES,  DUMP-CARTERS.  NAVVIES  and  Unassorted  SHOV- 

ELRY  in  the  Lower  Distance 

Scene — The  Brink  of  a  Railway  Cut,  a  ?.Iile  Deep. 
Time — 1875. 

FITCH  : 

Gods  !  what  a  steep  declivity  !  Below 
I  see  the  lazy  dump-carts  come  and  go, 
Creeping  like  beetles  and  about  as  big. 
The  delving  Paddies — 

PICKERING  : 

Case  of  infra  dig. 
FITCH  : 

JyOring,  light-minded  and  unmeaning  quips 
Come  with  but  scant  propriety  from  lips 
Fringed  with  the  blue-black  evidence  of  age. 
'Twere  well  to  cultivate  a  style  more  sage, 
For  men  will  fancy,  hearing  how  you  pun, 
Our  foulest  missiles  are  but  thrown  in  fun. 

(Enter  Dead  Cat.) 

Here's  one  that  thoughtfully  has  come  to  hand  ; 
Slant  your  fine  eye  below  and  see  it  land. 
(Seizes  Dead  Cat  by  the  tail  and  swings  it  in  act  to  throw.) 

DEAD   CAT  (singing)  : 
Merrily,  merrily,  round  I  go — 


226  BLACK  BEETLES  IX  AMBER 

Over  and  under  and  at. 
Swing  wide  and  free,  swing  -high  and  low 
The  anti-monopoly  cat  ! 

O,  who  wouldn't  be  in  the  place  of  me, 
The  anti-monopoly  cat  ? 
Designed  to  admonish, 
Persuade  and  astonish 
The  capitalist  and — 

FITCH  (letting  go)  : 
Scat! 

(E.rit  Dead  Cat. ) 

PICKERING  : 

Huzza.  !  good  Deacon,  well  and  truly  flung  ! 
Pat  Stanford  it  has  grassed,  and  Mike  de  Young. 
Mike  drives  a  dump-cart  for  the  villains,  though 
'Twere  fitter  that  he  pull  it.     Well,  we  owe 
The  traitor  one  for  leaving  us  ! — some  day 
We'll  get,  if  not  his  place,  his  cart  away. 
Meantime  fling  missiles — any  kind  will  do. 

(Enter  Antique  Egg.) 
Ha  !  \ve  can  give  them  an  ovation,  too  ! 

ANTIQUE  EGG  : 
In  the  valley  of  the  Nile, 
Where  the  Holy  Crocodile 
Of  immeasurable  smile 
Blossoms  like  the  early  rose, 
And  the  Sacred  Onion  grows — 
When  the  Pyramids  were  new 
And  the  Sphinx  possessed  a  nose, 
By  a  storkess  I  was  laid 
In  the  cool  papyrus  shade, 


BLACK  BEETLES  IN  AMBER  227 

Where  the  rushes  later  grew, 
That  concealed  the  little  Jew, 
Baby  Mose. 

Straining  very  hard  to  hatch, 

I  disrupted  there  my  yolk  ; 

And  I  felt  my  yellow  streaming 
Through  my  white  ; 

And  the  dream  that  I  was  dreaming 

Of  posterity  was  broke 
In  a  night. 

Then  from  the  papyrus-patch 

By  the  rising  waters  rolled, 

Passing  many  a  temple  old, 

I  proceeded  to  the  sea. 

Memnon  sang,  one  morn,  to  me, 

And  I  heard  Canibyses  sass 

The  tomb  of  Ozymandias  ! 

FITCH  : 

O,  venerablest  orb  of  all  the  earth, 
God  rest  the  lady  fowl  that  gave  thee  birth  ! 
Fit  missile  for  the  vilest  hand  to  throw — 
I  freely  tender  thee  mine  own.     Although 
As  a  bad  egg  I  am  myself  no  slouch, 
Thy  riper  years  thy  ranker  worth  avouch. 
Now,  Pickering,  please  expose  }^our  eye  and  say 
If — whoop  ! — 

(Exit  egg.} 
I've  got  the  range. 

PICKERING  : 

Hooray  !  hooray  ! 
A  grand  good  shot,  and  Teddy  Colton's  down  : 


8  BLACK  BEETLES  IN  AMBER 

It  burst  in  thunderbolts  upon  his  crown  ! 
Larry  O' Crocker  drops  his  pick  and  flies, 
And  deafening  odors  scream  along  the  skies  ! 
Pelt  'em  some  more. 

FITCH  : 

There's  nothing  left  but  tar— 
I  wish  I  were  a  Yahoo. 

PICKERING  : 

Well,  you  are. 

But  keep  the  tar.     How  well  I  recollect, 
When  Mike  was  in  with  us — proud,  strong,  erect — 
Mens  conscia  recti — flinging  mud,  he  stood, 
Austerely  brave,  incomparably  good, 
Ere  yet  for  filthy  lucre  he  began 
To  drive  a  cart  as  Stanford's  hired  man, 
That  pitch-pot  bearing  in  his  hand,  Old  Nick 
Appeared  and  tarred  us  all  with  the  same  stick. 

(Enter  Old  Nick. ) 

I  hope  he  won't  return  and  use  his  arts 
To  make  us  part  with  our  immortal  parts. 

OLD  NICK  : 

Make  yourself  easy  on  that  score  my  lamb  ; 
For  both  your  souls  I  wouldn't  give  a  damn  ! 
I  wrant  my  tar-pot — hello  !  where's  the  stick  ? 

FITCH  : 
Don't  look  at  me  that  fashion  ! — look  at  Pick. 

PICKERING  : 

Forgive  me,  father — pity  my  remorse  ! 
Truth  is — Mike  took  that  stick  to  spank  his  horse. 
It  fills  my  pericardium  with  grief 
That  I  kept  company  \vith  such  a  thief. 


BLACK  BEETLES  IX  AMBER  229 

(Endeavoring  to  get  his  handkerchief,  he  opens  his  coat  and 
the  far-stick  falls  out.  Xick  picks  it  iip,  looks  at  the  culprit 
reproachfully  and  withdraws  in  tears.) 

FITCH  (excitedly)  : 

O  Pickering,  come  hither  to  the  brink — 
There's  something  going  on  down  there,  I  think  ! 
With  many  an  upward  smile  and  meaning  wink 
The  navvies  all  are  running  from  the  cut 
Like  lunatics,  to  right  and  left — 

PICKERING  : 

Tut,  tut — 

'Tis  only  some  poor  sport  or  boisterous  joke. 
Let  us  sit  down  and  have  a  quiet  smoke. 

(  They  sit  and  light  cigars,) 

FlTCH  (singing)  : 
When  first  I  met  Miss  Toughie 

I  smoked  a  fine  cigyar, 
An'  I  was  on  de  dummy 
And  she  was  in  de  cyar. 

BOTH  (singing)  : 
An'  I  was  on  de  dummy 
And  she  was  in  de  cyar. 

FITCH  (singing)  : 
I  couldn't  go  to  her, 

An'  she  wouldn't  come  to  me  ; 
An'  I  was  as  oneasy 
As  a  gander  on  a  tree. 
BOTH  (singing)  : 
An'  I  was  as  oneasy 
As  a  gander  on  a  tree. 
FITCH  (singing) : 
But  purty  soon  I  weakened 


23o  BLACK  BEETLES  IN  AMBER 

An'  lef  de  dummy's  bench, 
An'  frevv  away  a  ten-cent  weed 
To  win  a  five-cent  wench  ! 

BOTH  (singing)  : 

An'  frew  away  a  ten-cent  weed 

To  win  a  five-cent  wench  ! 

FITCH  : 

Is  there  not  now  a  certain  substance  sold 
Under  the  name  of  fulminate  of  gold, 
A  high  explosive,  popular  for  blasting. 
Producing  an  effect  immense  and  lasting  ? 

PICKERING  : 

Nay,  that's  mere  superstition.     Rocks  are  rent 
And  excavations  made  by  argument. 
Explosives  all  have  had  their  day  and  season  ; 
The  modern  engineer  relies  on  reason. 
He'll  talk  a  tunnel  through  a  mountain's  flank 
And  by  fair  speech  cave  down  the  tallest  bank. 

(The  earth  trembles,  a  deep  subterranean  e.rplosion  is  heard 
and  a  section  of  the  bank  as  big  as  El  Capifan  starts  away  and 
plunges  thunderously  into  the  cut.  A  part  of  it  strikes  De 
Young'' s  dumpcart  abaft  the  axletret  and  flings  him,  hurtling, 
skyzuard,  a  thing  of  legs  and  arms,  to  descend  on  the  distant 
mountains,  inhere  it  is  cold.  Fitch  and  Pickering  pull  them 
selves  out  of  the  debris  and  stand  ungraveling  their  eyes  and 
noses.) 

FITCH : 

Well,  since  I'm  down  here  I  will  help  to  grade, 
And  do  dirt-throwing  henceforth  with  a  spade. 

PICKERING  : 

God  bless  my  soul !   it  gave  me  quit  a  start. 
Well,  fate  is  fate — I  guess  I'll  drive  this  cart. 
(Curtain.) 


BLACK  BEETLES  IN  AMBER 


METEMPSYCHOSIS 

DRAMATIS   PERSON J£. 

ST.  JOHN a  Presidential  Candidate 


Mn3.  HA  vies o an  E.\'- President 

PITTS-STEVENS a  Water  Nymph 

Scene — A  Small  Lake  ii:  ;ne  Alleghany  Mountains. 

ST.  JOHX  : 

Hours  I've  immersed  my  muzzle  in  this  tarn 
And,  quaffing  copious  potations,  tried 
To  suck  it  dry  ;  but  ever  as  I  pumped 
Its  waters  into  my  distended  skin 
The  labor  of  my  zeal  extruded  them 
In  perspiration  from  my  pores  ;  and  so, 
Rilling  the  marginal  declivity  , 
They  fell  again  into  their  source.     Ah,  me  ! 
Could  I  but  find  within  these  ancient  hills 
Some  long  extinct  volcano,  by  the  rains 
Of  countless  ages  in  its  crater  brimmed 
Like  a  full  goblet,  I  would  lay  me  down 
Prone  on  the  outer  slope,  and  o'er  its  edge 
Arching  my  neck,  I'd  siphon  out  its  store 
And  flood  the  valleys  wTith  my  sweat  for  aye. 
So  should  I  be  accounted  as  a  god, 
Even  as  Father  Nilus  is.     What's  that? 
Methought  I  heard  some  sawyer  draw  his  file 
With  jarring,  stridulous  cacophany 
Across  his  notchy  blade,  to  set  its  teeth 
And  mine  on  edge.     Ha  !  there  it  goes  age: in  ! 


2  BLACK  BEETLES  IN  AMBER 

Song,  within, 

Cold  water's  the  milk  of  the  mountains, 
And  Nature's  our  wet-nurse.     O  then, 
Glue  thou  thy  blue  lips  to  her  fountains 
Forever  and  ever,  amen  ! 

ST.  JOHN  : 

Why  surely  there's  congenial  company 
Aloof — the  spirit,  I  suppose,  that  guards 
This  sacred  spot ;  perchance  some  water-nymph 
Who  laving  in  the  crystal  flood  her  limbs 
Has  taken  cold,  and  so,  with  raucous  voice 
Afflicts  the  sensitive  membrane  of  mine  ear 
The  while  she  sings  my  sentiments. 

{Enter  Pitts-Stevens.) 

Hello  ! 
What  fiend  is  this  ? 

PITTS-STEVENS  : 

'Tis  I,  be  not  afraid. 
ST.  JOHN: 

And  who,  thou  antiquated  crone,  art  thou  ? 
1'  ne'er  forget  a  face,  but  names  I  can't 
So  well  remember.     I  have  seen.thee  oft. 
When  in  the  middle  season  of  the  night, 
Curved  with  a  cucumber,  or  knotted  hard 
With  an  eclectic  pie,  I've  striven  to  keep 
My  head  and  heels  asunder,  thou  has  come, 
With  sociable  familiarity, 
Into  my  dream,  but  not,  alas,  to  bless. 

PITTS-STEVENS  : 

My  name's  Pitts-Stevens,  age  just  seventeen  years  ; 
Talking  teetotaler,  professional 
Beauty. 


BLACK  BEETLES  IN  AMBER  233 

ST.  JOHN: 

What  dost  thou  here  ? 
PITTS-STEVEXS  : 

I'm  come,  fair  sir, 

\Vith  paint  and  brush  to  blazon  on  these  rocks 
The  merits  of  my  master's  nostrum — so  : 

(Paints  rapidly.) 
McDonald's  Vinegar  Bitters  !  " 

ST.  JOHN  : 

What  are  they  ? 
PITTS-STEVENS  : 

A  woman  suffering  from,  widowhood 
Took  a  full  bottle  and  was  cured.     A  man 
There  was — a  murderer ;  the  doctors  all 
Had  given  him  up — he'd  but  an  hour  to  live. 
He  swallowed  half  a  glassful.     He  is  dead, 
But  not  of  Vinegar  Bitters.     A  wee  babe 
Lay  sick  and  cried  for  it.     The  mother  gave 
That  innocent  a  spoonful  and  it  smoothed 
Its  pathway  to  the  tomb.     'Tis  warranted 
To  cause  a  boy  to  strike  his  father,  make 
A  pig  squeal,  start  the  hair  upon  a  stone, 
Or  play  the  fiddle  for  a  country  dance. 

(Enter  McDonald,  reading  a  Sunday-school  book.) 
Good  morrow,  sir  ;  I  trust  you're  well. 
McDoxALD : 

H'lo,  Pitts  ! 

Observe,  good  friends,  I  have  a  volume  here 
Myself  am  author  of — a  noble  book 
To  train  the  infant  mind  (delightful  task  ! ) 
It  tells  how  one  Samantha  Brown,  age,  six, 


234  BLACK  BEETLES  IN  AMBER 

A  gutter-bunking  slave  to  rum,  was  saved 
By  Vinegar  Bitters,  went  to  church  and  now 
Has  an  account  at  the  Pacific  Bank. 
I'll  read  the  whole  work  to  3-011. 
ST  JOHN : 

Heaven  forbid  ! 
I've  else\vhere  an  engagement. 

PITTS-STEVENS  : 

I  am  deaf. 
McDoxALD  (reading-  regardless)  : 

"  Once  011  a  time  there  lived  " 

(Enter Mrs.  Hayes.) 
Behold  our  queen  ! 
ALL: 
Her  eyes  upon  the  ground 

Before  her  feet  she  low'rs, 
Walking,  in  thought  profound, 

As  'twere,  upon  all  fours. 
Her  visage  is  austere, 

Her  gait  a  high  parade  ; 
At  every  step  you  hear 
The  sloshing  lemonade  ! 

MRS.  HAYES  (to  herself )  : 

Once,  sitting  in  the  White  House,  hard  at  work 
Signing  State  papers  (Rutherford  was  there, 
Knitting  some  hose)  a  sudden  glory  fell 
Upon  my  paper.     I  looked  up  and  sa\v 
An  angel,  holding  in  his  hand  a  rod 
Wherewith  he  struck  me.     Smarting  with  the  blow 
I  rose  and  (cuffing  Rutherford)  inquired  : 
"  Wherefore  this  chastisement?  "     The  angel  said  : 


BLACK  BEETLES  IN  AMBER  235 

"  Four  years  you  have  been  President,  and  still 
There's  rum  ! ' ' — then  flew  to  Heaven.     Contrite,  I 

swore 

Such  oath  as  lady  Methodist  might  take, 
My  second  term  should  medicine  my  first. 
The  people  would  not  have  it  that  way  ;  so 
I  seek  some  candidate  who'll  take  my  soul — 
My  spirit  of  reform,  fresh  from  my  breast, 
And  give  me  his  instead  ;  and  thus  equipped 
With  my  imperious  and  fiery  essence, 
Drive  the  Drink-Demon  from  the  land  and  fill 
The  people  up  with  water  till  their  teeth 
Are  all  afloat. 

(St.  John  discovers  himself.) 
What,  you  ? 

ST.  JOHN  : 

Aye,  Madam,  I'll 

Swap  souls  with  you  and  lead  the  cold  sea-green 
Amphibians  of  Prohibition  on, 

Pallid  of  nose  and  webbed  of  foot,  swim-bladdered, 
Gifted  with  gills,  invincible  ! 

MRS.  HAYES  : 

Enough, 
Stand  forth  and  consummate  the  interchange. 

(  While  McDonald  and  Pitts-Stevens  modestly  turn,  their 
backs,  the  latter  blushing  a  delicate  shrimp-pink,  St.  John  and 
Jfrs.  Hayes  effect  an  exchange  of  immortal  parts.  When  the 
transfer  is  complete  McDonald  turns  and  advances,  uncorking 
a  bottle  of  lri*,:egar  Bitters.) 

McDoxALD  (chanting)  : 
Xectar  compounded  of  simples 
Cocted  in  Stygian  shades — 


236  BLACK  BEETLES  IN  AMBER 

Acids  of  wrinkles  and  pimples 

From  faces  of  ancient  maids- 
Acrid  precipitates  sunken 

From  tempers  of  scolding  wives 
Whose  husbands,  uncommonly  drunken, 

Are  commonly  found  in  dives,— 
With  this  I  baptize  and  appoint  thee 

(to  St.  John.) 

To  marshal  the  vinophobe  ranks. 
In  the  name  of  Dambosh  I  anoint  thee 

(pours  the  liquid  down  St.  John's  back.) 

As  King  of  aquatical  cranks  ! 

(The  liquid  blisters  the  royal  back,  and  If  is  Majesty  starts 
on  a  dead  run,  energetically  exclaiming.  Exit  St.  John.) 

MRS.   HAYES  : 

My  soul !  My  soul !   I'll  never  get  it  back 
Unless  I  follow  nimbi}'  on  his  track. 

(Exit  Mrs.  Hayes. ) 

PITTS-STEVENS  : 

0  my  !  he's  such  a  beautiful  young  man  ! 
I'll  follow,  too,  and  catch  him  if  I  can. 

(Exit  Pitts-Stevens.) 
McDoxALD : 

He  scarce  is  visible,  his  dust  so  great  ! 
Methinks  for  so  obscure  a  candidate 
He  runs  quite  well.     But  as  for  Prohibition — 

1  mean  myself  to  hold  the  first  position. 

(Produces  a  pocket  flask)  topes  a  cruel  quantity  of  double- 
distilled  thundcr-and-lightning  out  of  it,  smiles  so  griuily  as  to 
darken  all  the  stage  and  sings)  : 

Though  fortunes  vary  let  all  be  merry, 
And  then  if  e'er  a  disaster  befall, 


BLACK  BEETLES  IN  AMBER  237 

At  Styx's  ferry  is  Charon's  wherry 
In  easy  call. 

Upon  a  ripple  of  golden  tipple 

That  tipsy  ship' 11  convey  you  best. 
To  king  and  cripple,  the  bottle's  the  nipple 
Of  Nature's  breast ! 
(Curtain.} 


238  BLACK  BEETLES  IX  A^rBER 


SLJCKENS 

DRAMATIS  PERSONA. 

HAYSEED a  Granger 

NOZZLE a  Miner 

RixonivvY a  Statesman 

FEEGor,3ivE a  Lawyer 

JUNKET a  Committee 

Scene — Yuba  Dam. 

Feegobble,  Ringdivvy,  Nozzle. 

NOZZLE  : 

My  friends,  since  '51  I  have  pursued 
The  evil  tenor  of  my  watery  way, 
Removing  hills  as  by  an  act  of  faith — 

RINGDIVVY  : 

Just  so  ;  the  steadfast  faith  of  those  who  hold, 
In  foreign  lands  beyond  the  Eastern  sea, 
The  shares  in  your  concern — a  simple,  blind, 
Unreasoning  belief  in  dividends, 
Still  stimulated  by  assessments  which, 
When  the  skies  fall,  ensnaring  all  the  larks, 
Will  bring,  no  doubt,  a  very  great  return. 

ALL  (singing) : 
O  the  beautiful  assessment, 
The  exquisite  assessment, 
The  regular  assessment, 
That  makes  the  water  flow. 

RINGDIVVY  : 
The  rascally  assessment ! 


BLACK  BEETLES  IN  AMBER  239 

FEEGOBBLE : 
The  murderous  assessment ! 

NOZZLE  : 
The  glorious  assessment 

That  makes  my  mare  to  go  ! 

FEEGOBBLE : 

But,  Nozzle,  you,  I  think,  were  on  the  point 
Of  making  a  remark  about  some  rights — 
Some  certain  vested  rights  you  have  acquired 
By  long  immunity  ;  for  still  the  law 
Holds  that  if  one  do  evil  undisturbed 
His  right  to  do  so  ripens  with  the  years  ; 
And  one  may  be  a  villain  long  enough 
To  make  himself  an  honest  gentleman. 

ALL  (singing)  : 
Hail,  holy  law, 
The  soul  with  awe 

Bows  to  thy  dispensation. 

NOZZLE  : 

It  breaks  my  jaw  ! 

RIXGDIVVY  : 
It  qualms  my  maw  ! 

FEEGOBBLE : 
It  feeds  my  jaw, 
It  crams  my  maw, 

It  is  my  soul's  salvation  ! 

NOZZLE  : 

Why,  yes,  I've  floated  mountains  to  the  sea 
For  lo  !    these  many  years  ;    though  some,  they  say, 
Do  strand  themselves  along  the  bottom  lands 


240  BLACK  BEETLES  IN  AMBER 

And  cover  up  a  village  here  and  there, 
And  here  and  there  a  ranch.     'Tis  said,  indeed^ 
The  granger  with  his  female  and  his  young 
Do  not  infrequently  go  to  the  dickens 
By  premature  burial  in  slickens. 
A  LI,  (singing) : 
Could  slickens  forever 
Choke  up  the  river, 
And  slime's  endeavor 

Be  tried  on  grain, 
How  small  the  measure 
Of  granger's  treasure, 
How  keen  his  pain  ! 

RINGDIVVY  : 
"  A  consummation  devoutly  to  be  wished  !  " 

These  rascal  grangers  would  long  since  have  been 
Submerged  in  slimes,  to  the  last  man  of  them, 
But  for  the  fact  that  all  their  wicked  tribes 
Affect  our  legislation  with  their  bribes. 

ALL  (singing)  : 
O  bribery's  great — 
'Tis  a  pillar  of  State, 

And  the  people  they  are  free. 

FEEGOBBLE : 
It  smashes  my  slate  ! 

XOZZLE  : 
It  is  thievery  straight ! 

RINGDIVVY  : 
But  it's  been  the  making  of  me  ! 

NOZZLE  : 
I  judge  by  certain  shrewd  sensations  here 


BLACK  BEETLES  IN  AMBER  241 

In  these  callosities  I  call  my  thumbs — 
A  thrilling  sense  as  of  ten  thousand  pins, 
Red-hot  and  penetrant,  transpiercing  all 
The  cuticle  and  tickling  through  the  nerves — 
That  some  malign  and  awful  thing  draws  near. 

(Enter  Hayseed.) 

Good  Lord !  here  are  the  ghosts  and  spooks  of  all 
The  grangers  I  have  decently  interred, 
Rolled  into  one  ! 

FEEGOBBLE : 
Plead,  phantom. 

RIXGDIVVY  : 

You've  the  floor. 

HAYSEED  : 

From  the  margin  of  the  river 
(Bitter  Creek,  they  sometimes  call  it) 
Where  I  cherished  once  the  pumpkin, 
And  the  summer  squash  promoted, 
Harvested  the  sweet  potato, 
Dallied  with  the  fatal  melon 
And  subdued  the  fierce  cucumber, 
I've  been  driven  by  the  slick  ens, 
Driven  by  the  slimes  and  tailings  ! 
All  my  family — my  Polly 
Ann  and  all  my  sons  and  daughters, 
Dog  and  baby  both  included — 
All  were  swamped  in  seas  of  slickens, 
Buried  fifty  fathoms  under, 
Where  they  lie,  prepared  to  play  their 
Gentle  prank  on  geologic 
Gents  that  shall  exhume  them  later, 
In  the  dim  and  distant  future, 


2  BLACK  BEETLES  IX  AMBER 

Taking  them  for  melancholy 
Relics  antedating  Adam. 
I  alone  got  up  and  dusted. 

NOZZLE  : 

Avaunt !  you  horrid  and  infernal  cuss  ! 
What  dire  distress  have  you  prepared  for  us  ? 

RIXGDIVVY  : 
Were  I  a  buzzard  stooping  from  the  sky 

My  craw  with  filth  to  fill, 
Into  your  honorable  body  I 
Would  introduce  a  bill. 

FEEGOBBLE : 

Defendant,  hence,  or,  by  the  gods,  I'll  brain  thee  !— 
Unless  you  saved  some  turneps  to  retain  me. 

HAYSEED  : 

As  I  was  saying,  I  got  up  and  dusted, 
My  ranch  a  graveyard  and  my  business  busted  ! 
But  hearing  that  a  fellow  from  the  City, 
Who  calls  himself  a  Citizens'  Committee, 
Was  coming  up  to  play  the  very  dickens, 
With  those  who  cover  up  our  farms  with  slickens, 
And  make  himself— unless  I  am  in  error— 
To  all  such  miscreants  a  holy  terror, 
I  thought  if  I  would  join  the  dialogue 
I  maybe  might  get  payment  for  my  dog. 

ALL  (Singing)  : 
O  the  dog  is  the  head  of  Creation, 

Prime  work  of  the  Master's  hand  ; 
He  hasn't  a  known  occupation, 

Yet  lives  on  the  fat  of  the  land. 
Adipose,  indolent,  sleek  and  orbicular, 


BL  A  CK  BEE  TL  ES  IN  AMBER  2 43 

Sun-soaken,  door  matted,  cross  and  particular, 
Men,  women,  children,  all  coddle  and  wait  on  him, 
Then,  accidentally  shutting  the  gate  on  him, 
Miss  from  their  calves,  ever  after,  the  rifted  out 
Mouthful  of  tendons  that  doggy  has  lifted  out ! 

(Enter  Junket.) 
JUNKET : 

Well  met,  my  hearties  !     I  must  trouble  3*011 
Jointly  and  severally  to  provide 
A  comfortable  carriage,  with  relays 
Of  hardy  horses.     This  Committee  means 
To  move  in  state  about  the  country  here. 
I  shall  expect  at  every  place  I  stop 
Good  beds,  of  course,  and  ever}Tthing  that's  nice, 
With  bountiful  repast  of  meat  and  wine. 
For  this  Committee  comes  to  see  and  mark 
And  inwardly  digest. 

HAYSEED  : 

Digest  my  dog ! 
XOZZLE  : 

First  square  my  claim  for  damages  :  the  gold 
Escaping  with  the  slickens  keeps  me  poor  ! 

RIXGDIVVY  : 

I  merely  would  remark  that  if  you'd  grease 
My  itching  palm  it  would  more  glibly  glide 
Into  the  public  pocket. 

FEEGOBBLE : 

Sir,  the  wheels 

Of  justice  move  but  slowly  till  they're  oiled. 
I  have  some  certain  writs  and  warrants  here, 
Prepared  against  your  advent.     You  recall 


244  BLACK  BEETLES  IN  AMBER 

The  tale  of  Zaccheus,  who  did  climb  a  tree, 
And  Jesus  said :   * '  Come  down ' '  ? 

JUNKET : 

Why,  bless  y our  souls  ! 
I've  got  no  money ;  I  but  came  to  see 
What  all  this  noisy  babble  is  about, 
Make  a  report  and  file  the  same  away. 

NOZZLE,  RINGDIVVY,  FEEGOBBLE,  HAYSEED  : 
How'll  that  help  us?  Reports  are  not  our  style 
Of  provender ! 

JUNKET : 

Well,  you  can  gnaw  the  file. 
(Curtain. ) 


BLACK  BEETLES  IX  AMBER  245 


"PEACEABLE   EXPULSION" 

DRAMATIS   PERSONA. 

MOUXTWAVE a  Politician 

HARDHAXD a  Workingman 

TOK  BAK a  Chinaman 

SATAN a  Friend  to  Moitntwave 

CHORUS  OF  FOREIGN  VOTERS. 

MOUXTWAYE  : 

My  friend,  I  beg  that  you  will  lend  your  ears 
(I  know  'tis  asking  a  good  deal  of  3*011) 
While  I  for  your  instruction  nominate 
Some  certain  wrongs  you  suffer.     Men  like  you 
Imperfectly  are  sensible  of  all 
The  miseries  they  actually  feel. 
Hence,  Providence  has  prudently  raised  up 
Clear-sighted  men  like  me  to  diagnose 
Their  cases  and  inform  them  where  they're  hurt. 
The  wounds  of  honest  workingmen  I  've  made 
A  specialty,  and  probing  them's  my  trade. 

HARDHAXD : 

Well,  Mister,  s'pose  you  let  yer  bossest  eye 
Camp  on  my  mortal  part  awhile  ;  then  you 
Jes'  toot  my  sufferin's  an'  tell  me  what's 
The  fashionable  caper  now  in  writhes — 
The  very  swellest  wiggle. 

MOUXTWAVE  : 

Well,  my  lad, 
'Tis  plain  as  is  the  long,  conspicuous  nose 


246  BLACK  BEETLES  IN  AMBER 

Borne,  ponderous  and  pendulous,  between 
The  elephant's  remarkable  eye-teeth 

(Enter  Tok  Bak.) 
That  Chinese  competition's  what  ati&you. 

BOTH  (Singing)  : 
O  pig-tail  Celestial, 
O  barbarous  bestial, 

Abominable  Chinee  I 
Simian  fellow  man, 
Primitive  yellow  man, 

Joshian  devotee  ! 
Shoe-and-cigar  machine, 
Oleomargarine 

You  are,  and  butter  are  we — 
Fat  of  the  land  are  we, 

Salt  of  the  earth  ; 
In  God's  image  planned  to  be— 

Xoble  in  birth  ! 
You,  on  the  contrary, 
Modeled  upon  very 

Different  lines  indeed, 
Show  in  conspicuous, 
Base  and  ridiculous 

Ways  your  inferior  breed. 
Wretched  apology, 
Shame  of  ethnology, 

Monster  unspeakably  low ! 
Fit  to  be  buckshotted — 
Be  you  'steboycotted. 

Vanish — vamoose — mosy — Go  ! 

TOK  BAK  : 
You  listen  me  !  You  beatee  the  big:  dlum 


I1LACK  BEETLES  1^  AMBER  247 

An'  tell  me  go  to  Flowly  Kingdom  Come. 
You  all  too  muchee  fool.     You  chinnee  heap. 
Such  talkee  like  my  washee — belly  cheap  ! 

(Enter  Satan. ) 

You  dlive  me  outee  clunty  towns  all  way  ; 
Why  you  no  tackle  me  Safflisco,  hay  ? 

SATAN : 

Methought  I  heard  a  murmuring  of  tongues 
Sound  through  the  ceiling  of  the  hollow  earth, 

As  if  the  anti-coolie  ques ha  !  friends, 

Well  met.  You  see  I  keep  my  ancient  word  : 
Where  two  or  three  are  gathered  in  my  name, 
There  am  I  in  their  midst. 

MOUXTWAYE  : 

O  monstrous  thief  1 

To  quote  the  words  of  Shakespeare  as  your  own. 
I  know  his  work. 

HARDHAND : 

Who's  Shakespeare? — what's  his  trade? 
I've  heard  about  the  work  o'  that  galoot 
Till  I'm  jest  sick  ! 

TOK  BAR  : 

Go  Sunny  school — you'll  know 
Mo'  Bible.     Bime  by  pleach— hell-talkee.     Tell 
'Bout  Abel — mebby  so  he  live  too  cheap. 
He  mebby  all  time  dig  on  lanch — no  dlink, 
Xo  splee — no  go  plocession  fo'  make  vote — 
Xo  sendee  money  out  of  clunty  fo' 
To  helpee  Ilishmen.     Cain  killum.     Josh 
He  catchee  at  it,  an'  he  belly  mad — 
Say  :    "  Allee  Melicans  boycottee  Cain." 


248  BLACK  BEETLES  AY  AMBER 

Xot  muchee — you  no  pleachee  that : 
You  all  same  lie. 

MOUXTWAVE  : 

This  cuss  must  be  expelled. 

(Dra  u  >s  pistol. ) 

MOUXTWAVE,  HARDHAXD,  SATAX   (singing)  : 
For  Chinese  expulsion,  hurrah  ! 

To  mobbing  and  murder,  all  hail  ! 
Away  with  your  justice  and  law— 
We'll  make  every  pagan  turn  tail. 
CHORUS  OF  FOREIGN  VOTERS  : 
Bedad  !  oof  dot  tief  o'ze  vorld — 
Zat  Ivan  Tchanay  vos  got  hurled 
In  Hella,  da  debil  he  say  : 
'  Wor  be  yer  return  pairmit,  he)-  ?  " 

Und  gry  as  'e  shaka  da  boot  : 
"  Zis  hay  then  haf  nevaire  been  oot  !  ' ' 

HARDHAXD : 

Too  many  cooks  are  working  at  this  broth — 
I  think,  by  thunder,  t'will  be  mostly  froth  ! 
I'm  cussed  ef  I  can  sarvy,  up  to  date, 
What  good  this  dern  fandango  does  the  State. 

MOUXTWAVE  : 

The  State's  advantage,  sir,  you  may  not  see, 
But  think  how  good  it  is  for  me. 
SATAX : 

And  me. 
(Curtain.) 


BLACK  BEETLES  IN  AMBER 


ASPIRANTS  THREE 

DRAMATIS  PERSON.!;. 

QUICK: 

DE  YOUNG a  Brother  to  Mushrooms 

DEAD: 

SWIFT an  Heirloom 

ESTEE a  Relic 

IMMORTALS: 

THE  SPIRIT  OF  BROKEN  HOPES.     THE  AUTHOR. 
M ISC  EL  LAXEOUS  : 

A  TROUPE  OF  COFFINS.      THE    MOON.      VARIOUS    COL 
ORED  FIRES. 

Scene — The  Political  Graveyard  at  Bone  Mountain. 

DE  YOUNG  : 

This  is  the  spot  agreed  upon.     Here  rest 
The  sainted  statesman  who  upon  the  field 
Of  honor  have  at  various  times  laid  down 
Their  own,  and  ended,  ignominious, 
Their  lives  political.     About  me,  lo  ! 
Their  silent  headstones,  gilded  by  the  moon, 
Half-full  and  near  her  setting — midnight.     Hark  ! 
Through  the  white  mists  of  this  portentous  night 
(Which  throng  in  moving  shapes  about  my  way, 
As  they  were  ghosts  of  candidates  I've  slain  , 
To  fray  their  murderer)  my  open  ear, 
Spacious  to  maw  the  noises  of  the  world, 
Engulfs  a  footstep. 

(Enter   Esteefrom  his  tomb.) 
Ah,  'tis  he,  my  foe, 
True  to  appointment ;  and  so  here  we  fight — 


250  BLACK  BEETLES  IN  AMBER 

Though  truly  'twas  my  firm  belief  that  he 
Would  send  regrets,  or  I  had  not  been  here. 
ESTEK : 

0  moon  that  hast  so  oft  surprised  the  deeds 
Whereby  I  rose  to  greatness  ! — tricksy  orb, 
The  type  and  symbol  of  my  politics, 

Now  draw  my  ebbing  fortunes  to  their  flood, 
As,  by  the  magic  of  a  poultice,  boils 
That  burn  ambitions  with  defeated  fires 
Are  lifted  into  eminence. 

(Sees  DC  Young.) 
What?  you! 

Faith,  if  I  had  suspected  you  would  come 
From  the  fair  world  of  politics  wherein 
So  lately  3'ou  were  whelped,  and  which,  alas, 

1  vainly  to  revisit  strive,  though  still 
Rapped  on  the  rotting  head  and  bidden  sleep 
Till  Resurrection's  morn, — if  I  had  thought 
You  would  accept  the  challenge  that  I  flung 

I  would  have  seen  you  damned  ere  I  came  forth 
In  the  night  air,  shroud-clad  and  shivering, 
To  fight  so  mean  a  thing !    But  since  you're  here, 
Draw  and  defend  yourself.     By  gad,  we'll  see 
Who'll  be  Postmaster-General  ! 
DE  YOUNG  : 

We  will— 

I'll  fight  (for  I  am  lame)  with  any  blue 
And  redolent  remain  that  dares  aspire 
To  wreck  the  Grand  Old  Grandson's  cabinet. 
Here's  at  you,  nosegay  ! 

(They  draw  tongues  and  are  about  to  fight,  when  from  ait 
adjacent  whited  sepulcher,  enter  Swift. ) 


BLACK  BEETLES  IN  AMBER  251 

SWIFT  : 

Hold !  put  tip  your  tongues  ! 
Within  the  confines  of  this  sacred  spot 
Broods  such  a  holy  calm  as  none  may  break 
By  clash  of  weapons,  without  sacrilege. 

(Beats  down  their  tongues  with  a  bone.} 
Madmen  !  what  profits  it  ?     For  though  you  fought 
With  such  heroic  skill  that  both  survived, 
Yet  neither  should  achieve  the  prize,  for  I 
Would  wrest  it  from  him.     Let  us  not  contend, 
But  friendliwise  by  stipulation  fix 
A  slate  for  mutual  advantage.     Why, 
Having  the  pick  and  choice  of  seats,  should  wre 
Forego  them  all  but  one  ?    Nay,  we'll  take  three, 
And  part  them  so  among  us  that  to  each 
Shall  fall  the  fittest  to  his  powers.     In  brief, 
Let  us  establish  a  Portfolio  Trust. 

ESTEE  : 

Agreed. 

DE  YOUNG  : 

Aye,  truly,  'tis  a  greed — and  one 
The  offices  imperfectly  will  sate, 
But  I'll  stand  in 

SWIFT  : 

Well,  so  'tis  understood, 
As  you're  the  junior  member  of  the  Trust, 
Politically  younger  and  undead, 
Speak,  Michael :  what  portfolio  do  you  choose  ? 

DE  YOUNG  : 

I  've  thought  the  Postal  service  best  would  serve 
My  interest ;  but  since  I  have  my  pick, 


252  BLACK  BEETLES  IN  AMBER 

I'll  take  the  War  Department.     It  is  known 

Throughout  the  world,  from  Market  street  to  Pine, 

(For  a  Chicago  journal  told  the  tale) 

How  in  this  hand  I  lately  took  my  life 

And  marched  against  great  Buckley,  thundering 

My  mandate  that  he  count  the  ballots  fair  ! 

Earth  heard  and  shrank  to  half  her  size  !  Yon  moon, 

Which  rivaled  then  a  liver's  whiteness,  paused 

That  night  at  Butchertown  and  daubed  her  face 

With  sheep's  blood  !     Then  my  serried  rank  I  drew 

Back  to  ni)'  stronghold  without  loss.     To  mark 

My  care  in  saving  human  life  and  limb, 

The  Peace  Society  bestowed  on  me 

Its  leather  medal  and  the  title,  too, 

Of  Colonel.    Yes,  my  genius  is  for  war.  Good  land  ! 

I  naturally  dote  on  a  brass  band  ! 

(Sings.) 
O,  give  me  a  life  011  the  tented  field, 

Where  the  cannon  roar  and  ring, 
Where  the  flag  floats  free  and  the  foemen  yield 

And  bleed  as  the  bullets  sing. 
But  be  it  not  mine  to  wage  the  fray 
Where  matters  are  ordered  the  other  way, 

For  that  is  a  different  thing. 

O,  give  me  a  life  in  the  fierce  campaign — 

Let  it  be  the  life  of  my  foe  : 
I'd  rather  fall  upon  him  than  the  plain  ; 

That  service  I'd  fain  forego. 
O,  a  wrarrior's  life  is  fine  and  free, 
But  a  warrior's  death — ah  me  !  ah  me  ! 

That's  a  different  thing,  you  know. 


HLACK  BEETLES  IN  AMBER  253 

ESTEE : 

Some  claim  I  might  myself  advance  to  that 
Portfolio.     When  Rebellion  raised  its  head, 
And  you,  my  friends,  stayed  meekly  in  your  shirts, 
I  marched  with  banners  to  the  party  stump, 
Spat  on  my  hands,  made  faces  fierce  as  death, 
Shook  my  two  fists  at  once  and  introduced 
Brave  resolutions  terrible  to  read  ! 
Nay,  only  recently,  as  you  do  know, 
I  conquered  Treason  by  the  word  of  mouth, 
And  slew,  with  Samson's  weapon,  the  whole  South ! 

SWIFT  : 
You  once  fought  Stanford,  too. 

ESTEE : 

Enough  of  that— -• 

Give  me  the  Interior  and  I'll  devote 
My  mind  to  agriculture  and  improve 
The  breed  of  cabbages,  especially 
The  Brassica  Cclcritatis,  named 
For  you  because  in  days  of  long  ago 
You  sold  it  at  your  market  stall, — and,  faith, 
'Tis  said  you  were  an  honest  huckster  then. 
I'll  be  Attorney-General  if  you 
Prefer ;  for  know  I  am  a  lawyer  too  ! 

SWIFT  : 
I  never  have  heard  that  ! — did  you,  De  Young? 

DE  YOUNG  : 

Never,  so  help  me  !     And  I  swear  I've  heard 
A  score  of  Judges  say  that  he  is  not. 

SWIFT  (to  Esicc)  : 
You  take  the  Interior.     I  might  aspire 


2-4  BLACK  BEETLES  IN  AMBER 

To  military  station  too,  for  once 

I  led  my  party  into  Pixley's  camp, 

And  he  paroled  me.     I  defended,  too, 

The  State  of  Oregon  against  the  sharp 

And  bloody  tooth  of  the  Australian  sheep. 

But  I've  an  aptitude  exceeding  neat 

For  bloodless  battles  of  diplomacy. 

My  cobweb  treaty  of  Exclusion  once, 

Through  which  a  hundred  thousand  coolies  sailed, 

Was  much  admired,  but  most  by  Colonel  Bee. 

Though  born  a  tinker  I'm  a  diplomat 

From  old  Missouri,  and  I — ha  !  what's  that? 

(E.vit  Moon.  Enter  Bine  Lights  on  all  the  tombs,  and  a 
circle  of  Red  Fire  on  tlie  grass ;  in  the  center  the  Spirit  of 
Broken  Hopes,  and  round  about,  a  Troupe  of  Coffins,  dancing 
and  singing.) 

CHORUS  OF  COFFINS  : 
Two  bodies  dead  and  one  alive — 

Yo,  ho,  merrily  all ! 
Now  for  boodle  strain  and  strive- — • 

Buzzards  all  a-warble,  O  ! 
Prophets  three,  agape  for  bread  ; 
Raven  with  a  stone  instead — 

Providential  raven ! 
Judges  two  and  Colonel  one — 
Run,  run,  rustics,  run ! 
But  it's  O,  the  pig  is  shaven, 

And  oily,  oily  all ! 

(Exeunt  Coffins^  dancing.  The  Spirit  of  Broken  Hopes 
advances,  solemnly  pointing  at  each  of  the  Three  Worthies  in 
turn.) 

SPIRIT  OF  BROKEN  HOPES: 
Governor,  Governor,  editor  man, 


BLACK  BEETLES  IN  AMBER  255 

Rusty,  musty,  spick-and-span, 
Harlequin,  harridan,  dicky-dout, 
Demagogue,  charlatan  —  o,  u,  t,  OUT  ! 

(De  Young  falls  and  sleeps.) 

Antimonopoler,  diplomat, 
Railroad  lackey,  political  rat, 
One,  two,  three  —  SCAT  ! 

(  Swift  falls  and  sleeps.} 

Boycotting  chin-  worker,  working  to  woo 
Fortune,  the  fickle,  to  smile  uponjjw^, 
Jo-coated  acrobat,  shuttle-cock  —  SHOO  ! 

(Estcc  falls  and  sleeps.) 

Now  they  lie  in  slumber  sweet, 
Now  the  charm  is  all  complete, 
Hasten  I  with  flying  feet 
Where  beyond  the  further  sea 
A  babe  upon  its  mother's  knee 
Is  gazing  into  skies  afar 
And  crying  for  a  golden  star. 
I  '11  drag  a  cloud  across  the  blue 
And  break  that  infant's  heart  in  two  ! 

(  E.reunt  the  Spirit  of  Broken  Hopes  and  the  Red  and  Blue 
Fires.     Re-enter  Jfoou.) 


K  (waking)  : 

Why,  this  is  strange  !     I  dreamed  I  know  not  what, 
It  seemed  that  certain  apparitions  were, 
Which  sang  uncanny  words,  significant 
And  yet  ambiguous  —  half-understood  —  • 
Portending  evil  ;  and  an  awful  spook, 
Kven  as  I  stood  with  my  accomplices, 
Counted  me  out,  as  children  do  in  play. 
Is  that  you,  Mike  ? 


256  BLACK  BEETLES  IN  AMBER 

DE  YOUNG  (waking): 

It  was. 
SWIFT  (waking)  : 

Am  I  all  that  ? 
Then  I'll  reform  my  ways. 

( Reforms  his  i^ays,^ 
Ah  !  had  I  known 

How  sweet  it  is  to  be  an  honest  man 
I  never  would  have  stooped  to  turn  my  coat 
For  public  favor,  as  chameleons  take 
The  hue  (as  near  as  they  can  judge)  of  that 
Supporting  them.     Henceforth  I'll  buy 
With  money  all  the  offices  I  need, 
And  know  the  pleasure  of  an  honest  life, 
Or  stay  forever  in  this  dismal  place. 
Now  that  I'm  good,  it  will  no  longer  do 
To  make  a  third  with  such  a  wicked  two. 

(Returns  to  his  tomb.  / 

DE  YOUNG : 

Prophetic  dream  !  by  some  good  angel  sent 
To  mcike  me  with  a  quiet  life  content. 
The  question  shall  no  more  my  bosom  irk, 
To  go  to  Washington  or  go  to  work. 
From  Fame's  debasing  struggle  I'll  withdraw, 
And  taking  up  the  pen  lay  down  the  law. 
I'll  leave  this  rogue,  lest  my  example  make 
An  honest  man  of  him — his  heart  would  break. 

(Exit  De  Young.  / 

ESTEE : 

Out  of  my  company  these  converts  flee, 
But  that  advantage  is  denied  to  me  : 
My  curst  identity's  confining  skin 


Dl.  A  CK  BEE  TLES  IX  A  MBER  257 

Xor  lets  me  out  nor  tolerates  me  in. 
Well,  since  my  hopes  eternally  have  fled, 
And,  dead  before,  I'm  more  than  ever  dead, 
To  find  a  grander  tomb  be  now  my  task, 
And  pack  my  pork  into  a  stolen  cask. 

(Exit,  searching.     Loud  calls  for  the  Author,  n'ho  appears, 
ming  and  smiling.) 

AUTHOR  (singing)  : 
Jack  Satan's  the  greatest  of  gods, 

And  Hell  is  the  best  of  abodes. 
'Tis  reached,  through  the  Valley  of  Clods, 

By  seventy  different  roads. 

Hurrah  for  the  Seventy  Roads  ! 
Hurrah  for  the  clods  that  resound 
With  a  hollow,  thundering  sound! 

Hurrah  for  the  Best  of  Abodes  ! 

We'll  serve  him  as  long  as  we've  breath- 
Jack  Satan  the  greatest  of  gods. 

To  all  of  his  enemies,  death  ! — 
A  home  in  the  Valley  of  Clods. 
Hurrah  for  the  thunder  of  clods 

That  smother  the  soul  of  his  foe  ! 

Hurrah  for  the  spirits  that  go 

To  dwell  with  the  Greatest  of  Gods ; 
(Curtain  falls  to  faint  odor  of  mortality.     Exit  the  Gas.) 


258  BLACK  BEETLES  IN  AMBER 


THE   BIRTH   OF  THE   RAIL 

DRAMATIS 


,  THE  KID  .........  ....................  a  Road  Agent 

COWBOY  CHARLEY  .....................  Same  Line  of  Business 

HAPPY  UUNTY  ..........................  J)itio  in  .-III  Respects 

SOOTYMUG  ..........................................  a  Devil 

Scene  —  the   Dutch  Flat  Stage  Road,  at   12  p.  M.,  on  a  Night 
of  1864. 

COWBOY  CHARLEY  : 
My  boss,  I  fear  she  is  delayed  to-night. 
Already  it  is  past  the  hour,  and  yet 
M}'  ears  have  reached  no  sound  of  wheels  ;  no  note 
Melodious,  of  long,  luxurious  oaths 
Betokens  the  traditional  dispute 
(Unsettled  from  the  dawn  of  time)  between 
The  driver  and  off  wheeler  ;  no  clear  chant 
Xor  carol  of  Wells  Fargo'  s  messenger 
Unbosoming  his  soul  upon  the  air  — 
Singing  his  prowess  to  the  tender-foot, 
And  how  at  divers  times  in  sundry  ways 
He  strewed  the  roadside  with  our  carcasses. 
Clearly,  the  stage  will  not  come  by  to-night. 

THE  KID  : 


I  now  remember  that  but  yesterday 
I  saw  three  ugly  looking  fellows  start 
From  Colfax  with  a  gun  apiece,  and  they 
Did  seem  on  business  of  importance  bent  . 
Furtively  casting  all  their  eyes  about 


BLACK  BEETLES  IN  AMBER  259 

And  covering  their  tracks  with  all  the  care 
That  business  men  do  use.     I  think  perhaps 
They  were  Directors  of  that  rival  line, 
The  great  Pacific  Mail.     If  so,  they  have 
Indubitably  taken  in  that  coach, 
And  we  are  overreached.     Three  times  before 
This  thing  has  happened,  and  if  once  again 
These  outside  operators  dare  to  cut 
Our  rates  of  profit  I  shall  quit  the  road 
And  take  my  money  out  of  this  concern. 
When  robbery  no  longer  pays  expense 
It  loses  then  its  chiefest  charm  for  me, 
And  I  prefer  to  cheat — you  hear  me  shout  ! 

HAPPY  HUXTY  : 

My  chief,  3-0  u  do  but  echo  back  my  thoughts : 
This  competition  is  the  death  of  trade. 
'Tis  plain  (unless  we  wish  to  go  to  work) 
Some  other  business  we  must  early  find. 
What  shall  it  be  ?     The  field  of  usefulness 
Is  yearly  narrowing  \vith  the  advance 
Of  wealth  and  population  on  this  coast. 
There's  little  left  that  any  man  can  do 
Without  some  other  fellow  stepping  in 
And  doing  it  as  well.     If  one  essay 
To  pick  a  pocket  he  is  sure  to  feel 
(With  \vhat  disgust  I  need  not  say  to  you) 
Another  hand  inserted  in  the  same. 
You  crack  a  crib  at  dead  of  night,  and  lo  ! 
As  you  explore  the  dining-room  for  plate 
You  find,  in  session  there,  a  graceless  band 
Stuffing  their  coats  with  spoons,  their  skins  with  wine. 
And  so  it  goes.     Why  even  undertake 


260  BLACK  BEETLES  IN  AMBER 

To  salt  a  mine  and  you  will  find  it  rich 
With  noble  specimens  placed  there  before  ! 

LELAND,  THE  KID: 
And  yet  this  line  of  immigration  has 
Advantages  superior  to  aught 
That  elsewhere  offers  :  all  these  passengers, 
If  punched  with  care 

COWBOY  CHARLEY  : 

Significant  remark  ! 
It  opens  up  a  prospect  wide  and  fair. 
Suggesting  to  the  thoughtful  mind — my  mind— 
A  scheme  that  is  the  boss  lay-out.     Instead 
Of  stopping  passengers,  let's  carry  them. 
Instead  of  crying  out  :     "Throw  up  your  hands  !  " 
Let's  say  :     "  Walk  up  and  buy  a  ticket  !  ' '     Why 
Should  we  unwieldy  goods  and  bullion  take, 
Watches  and  all  such  trifles,  when  we  might 
Far  better  charge  their  value  three  times  o'er 
For  carrying  them  to  market  ? 

LELAND,  THE  KID  : 

Put  it  there, 
Old  son  ! 

HAPPY  HUNTY  : 

You  take  the  cake,  my  dear.      We'll  build 
A  mighty  railroad  through  this  pass,  and  then 
The  stage  folk  will  come  up  to  us  and  squeal, 
And  say  :     "  It  is  bad  medicine  for  both  : 
What  will  you  give  or  take  ? "     And  then  we'll  sell. 

COWBOY  CHARLEY  : 
Enlarge  your  notions,  little  one  ;  this  is 
No  petty,  slouching,  opposition  scheme, 


BLACK  BEETLES  IN  AMBER  261 

To  be  bought  off  like  honest  men  and  fools  ; 
Mine  eye  prophetic  pierces  through  the  mists 
That  cloud  the  future,  and  I  seem  to  see 
A  well-devised  and  executed  scheme 
Of  wholesale  robbery  within  the  law 
(Made  by  ourselves) — great,  permanent,  sublime, 
And  strong  to  grapple  with  the  public  throat- 
Shaking  the  stuffing  from  the  public  purse, 
The  tears  from  bankrupt  merchants'  eyes,  the  blood 
From  widows'  famished  carcasses,  the  bread 
From  orphans'  mouths  ! 

HAPPY  HUNTY  : 

Hooray  ! 
LELAXD,  THE  KID  : 

Hooray  ! 
ALL: 

Hooray  ! 

(  They  tear  the  masks  from  their  faces,  and  discharging  their 
shotguns,  throw  them-  into  the  cJiapparal.  Then  they  join  hands, 
d.ince  and  sing  the  following  song  :) 

Ah  !  blessed  to  measure 
The  glittering  treasure  ! 

Ah  !  blessed  to  heap  up  the  gold 

Untold 

That  flows  in  a  wide 
And  deepening  tide — 

Rolled,  rolled,  rolled 
From  multifold  sources, 
Converging  its  courses 

Upon  our 

LELAND,  THE  KID  : 
Just  wait  a  bit,  my  pards,  I  thought  I  heard 


262  BLACK  BEETLES  IN  AMBER 

A  sneaking  grizzly  cracking  the  dry  twigs. 
Such  an  intrusion  might  deprive  the  State 
Of  all  the  good  that  we  intend  it.     Ha  ! 

(Enter  Sootymug.     He  saunters  carelessly  in  and  grace 
fully  leans  his  back  against  a  redwood.) 

SOOTYMUG  : 
My  boys,  I  thought  I  heard 

Some  careless  revelry, 
As  if  your  minds  were  stirred 

By  some  new  devilry. 
I  too  am  in  that  line.     Indeed,  the  mission 

On  which  I  come 

HAPPY  HUNTY  : 

Here's  more  damned  competition  ! 
(Curtain.) 


BLACK  BEETLES  IN  AMBER  263 


A   BAD    NIGHT 


DRAMATIS 

VIIXIAM  ..............................................  a  Sen 

XEEDI.ESOX  .....................................  a  Sidniduc 

SMILER  .........  .  ................................  a  Scheister 

Ki-Yi   ...........................  ..................  a  Trader 

GRIMGHAST  ......................................  a  Spader 

SARALTHIA  ..............................  a  Love-lorn  Xyw.ph 

XELLIBRAC   ......    ..............................  a  Swectun 

A  BODY  ;   A  GHOST  ;    AX  UXMEXTIOXABLE  THING  ;   SKULLS  ; 

KOODOOS  ;  ETC. 
Scene  —  a  Cemetery  in  San  Francisco. 

Saralthia,  Nellibrac,  Griinghast. 

SARALTHIA  : 

The  red  half-moon  is  dipping  to  the  west, 
And  the  cold  fog  invades  the  sleeping  land. 
Lo  !   how  the  grinning  skulls  in  the  level  light 
Litter  the  place  !     Methinks  that  every  skull 
Is  a  most  lifelike  portrait  of  my  Sen, 
Drawn  by  the  hand  of  Death  ;  each  fleshless  pate, 
Cursed  with  a  ghastly  grin  to  eyes  unrubbed 
With  love's  magnetic  ointment,  seems  to  mine 
To  smile  an  amiable  smile  like  his 
Whose  amiable  smile  I  —  I  alone 
Am  able  to  distinguish  from  his  leer  ! 
See  how  the  gathering  coyotes  flit 
Through  the  lit  spaces,  or  with  burning  eyes 


26j  BLACK  BEETLES  AV  AMBER 

Star  the  black  shadows  with  a  steadfast  gaze  ! 

About  my  feet  the  poddy  toads  at  play, 

Bulbously  comfortable,  try  to  hop, 

And  tumble  clumsily  with  all  their  warts ; 

While  pranking  lizards,  sliding  up  and  down 

My  limbs,  as  they  were  public  roads,  impart 

A  singularly  interesting  chill. 

The  circumstance  and  passion  of  the  time, 

The  cast  and  manner  of  the  place — the  spirit 

Of  this  confederate  environment, 

Command  the  rights  we  come  to  celebrate 

Obedient  to  the  Inspired  Hag — 

The  seventh  daughter  of  the  seventh  daughter, 

Who  rules  all  destinies  from  Minna  street, 

A  dollar  a  destinj'.     Here  at  this  grave, 

Which  for  my  purposes  them,  Jack  of  Spades— 

(  To  Grimghast  ) 

Corrupter  than  the  thing  that  reeks  below — 
Hast  opened  secretly,  we'll  work  the  charm. 
Now  what's  the  hour? 

(Distant  clock  strikes  thirteen.  ) 

Enough — hale  forth  the  stiff! 

(Grimghast  l>y  means  of  a  boat-hook  stands  the  coffin  on  end 
in  the  excavation;  the  lid  crumbles,  exposing  the  remains  of  a 
man.) 

Ha  !     Master  Mouldybones,  how  fare  you,  sir? 

THE  BODY: 

Poorly,  I  thank  your  ladyship  ;   I  miss 
Some  certain  fingers  and  an  ear  or  two. 
There's  something,  too,  gone  wrong  with  my  insiele, 
And  my  periphery  's  not  what  it  was. 
How  can  we  serve  each  other,  you  and  I  ? 


2^ LACK  BEETLES  IN  AMBER  265 

NELLIBRAC  : 
O  what  a  personable  man  ! 

(Blushes  bashfully,  drops  her  eyes  and  twists  the  corner  of 
her  apron.) 

SARALTHIA  : 

Yes,  dear, 

A  very  proper  and  alluring  male, 
And  quite  superior  to  L,ubin  Rroyd, 
Who  has,  however,  this  distinct  advantage — 
He  is  alive. 

GRIMGHAST  : 

Missus,  these  yer  remains 
Was  the  boss  singer  back  in  '72, 
And  used  to  allers  git  invites  to  go 
Down  to  Swellmont  and  sing  at  every  feed. 
In  t'other  Villiam's  time,  that  was,  afore 
The  gent  that  you've  hooked  onto  bought  the  place. 

THE  BODY  (singing): 
Down  among  the  sainted  dead 

Many  years  I  la}' ; 
Beetles  occupied  my  head, 

Moles  explored  my  clay. 

There  we  feasted  day  and  night  — 

I  and  bug  and  beast  ; 
They  provided  appetite 

And  I  supplied  the  feast. 

The  raven  is  a  dicky-bird, 
SARALTHIA  (singing)  : 
The  jackal  is  a  daisy, 


266  BLACK  BEETLES  IN  AMBER 

NELLIBRAC  (singing)  : 
The  wall-mouse  is  a  worthy  third, 

A  SPOOK  (singing)  : 
But  mortals  all  are  crazy. 

CHORUS  OF  SKULLS  : 
O  mortals  all  are  crazy, 
Their  intellects  are  hazy  ; 
In  the  growing  moon  they  shake  their  shooii 
And  trip  it  in  the  mazy. 

But  when  the  moon  is  waning, 
Their  senses  they're  regaining: 
They  fall  to  prayer  and  from  their  hair 
Remove  the  straws  remaining. 

SARALTHIA  : 

That's  right,  Rogues  Gallery,  pray  keep  it  up  : 
Your  song  recalls  my  Villiam's  "Auld  L,ang  Syne/' 
What  time  he  came  and  (like  an  amorous  bird 
That  struts  before  the  female  of  its  kind, 
Warbling  to  cave  her  down  the  bank)  piped  high 
His  cracked  falsetto  out  of  reach.      Enough  — 
Now  let's  to  business.     Nellibrac,  sweet  child, 
St.  Cloacina's  future  devotee, 
The  time  is  ripe  and  rotten  —  gut  the  grip ! 

(Nellibrac  brings  forward  a  valise  and  takes  from  it  Jive 
articles  of  clothing,  which,  one  by  one,  she  lays  upon  the  points 
of  a  magic  pentagram  that  has  thoughtfully  inscribed  itself  in 
lines  of  light  on  the  wet  grass.  The  Body  holds  its  late  lamented 
nose.) 

NELLIBRAC  (singing): 

Fragant  socks,  by  Villiam's  toes 
Consecrated  to  the  nose  ; 


BLACK  BEETLES  IN  AMBER  267 

Shirt  that  shows  the  well  worn  track 
Of  the  knuckles  of  his  back  , 

Handkerchief  with  mottled  stains, 
Into  which  he  blew  his  brains  ; 

Collar  crying  out  for  soap  — 
Prophet  of  the  future  rope  ; 

An  unmentionable  thing 
It  would  sicken  me  to  sing. 

UNMENTIONABLE  THING  (aside)  : 
What !  /  unmentionable  ?  Just  you  wait ! 
In  all  the  family  journals  of  the  State 
You'll  sometime  see  that  I'm  described  at  length, 
With  supereditorial  grace  and  strength. 

SARAI/THIA  (singing) : 
Throw  them  in  the  open  tomb 
They  will  cause  his  love  to  bloom 
With  an  amatory  boom  ! 

CHORUS  OF  INVISIBLE  KOODOOS: 
Hoodoo,  hoodoo,  voudou-vet 
Villiam  struggles  in  the  net ! 
By  the  power  and  intent 
Of  the  charm  his  strength  is  spent ! 
By  the  virtue  in  each  rag 
Blessed  by  the  Inspired  Hag 
He  will  be  a  willing  victim 
Limp  as  if  a  donkey  kicked  him  1 
By  this  awful  incantation 
We  decree  his  animation — 


268  BLACK  BEETLES  IN  AMBER 

By  the  magic  of  our  art 
Warm  the  cockles  of  his  heart, 
Villiam,  if  alive  or.  dead, 
Thou  Saralthia  shalt  wed  ! 

(They  cast  the  garments  into  the  grave  and  push  over  tlie 
coffin.  Grimghast  fills  up  the  hole.  Hoodoos  gradually  become 
apparent  in  a  phosphorescent  light  about  the  grave,  holding  one 
another's  back-hair  and  dancing  in  a  circle.) 

HOODOO  SONG  AND  DANCE  : 
O  we're  the  larrikin  hoodoos  ! 
The  chirruping,  lirruping  hoodoos  ! 
We  mix  things  up  that  the  Fates  ordain, 
Bring  back  the  past  and  the  present  detain  , 
Postpone  the  future  and  sometimes  tether 
The  three  and  drive  them  abreast  together — 
We  rollicking,  frolicking  hoodoos  ! 

To  us  all  things  are  the  same  as  none 
And  nothing  is  that  is  under  the  sun. 
Seven's  a  dozen  and  never  is  then, 
Whether  is  what  and  what  is  when, 
A  man  is  a  tree  and  a  cuckoo  a  cow 
For  gold  galore  and  silver  enow 
To  magical,  mystical  hoodoos  ! 

SARALTHIA  : 
What  monstrous  shadow  darkens  all  the  place, 

(Enter  Sniyler. ) 

Flung  like  a  doom  athwart — ha  ! — thou  ? 
Portentous  presence,  art  thou  not  the  same 
That  stalks  with  aspect  horrible  among 
Small  youths  and  maidens,  baring  snaggy  teeth, 
Champing  their  tender  limbs  till  crimson  spume, 


BLACK  BEETLES  IN  AMBER  269 

Flung  from  thy  lips  in  cursing  God  and  man, 
Incarnadines  the  land  ? 

SMYLER : 

Thou  dammid  slut  ! 

(Exit  Sinyler.) 
NELLIBRAC  : 

0  what  a  pretty  man  ! 

SARALTHIA 

Now  who  is  next? 

Of  tramps  and  casuals  this  graveyard  seems 
Prolific  to  a  fault ! 

(Enter  Needle  son,  exhaling,  prophetically,  an  odor  of  de 
cayed  eggs  and,  actually,  one  of  unlaundried  linen.  He  darts  an 
intense  regard  at  an  adjacent  marble  angel  and  places  his  open 
hand  behind  his  ear.) 

XEEDLESOX : 

Hay? 

(Exit  Ncedleson.) 

XELLIBRAC  : 

Sweet,  sweet  male  ! 

1  yearn  to  play  at  Copenhagen  with  him  ! 

(Blushes  diligently  and  energetically.) 

CHORUS  OF  SKULLS  : 
Hoodoos,  hoodoos,  disappear  — 
Some  dread  deity  draws  near  ! 

(  Exeu  n  t  Hoodos. ) 
Smitten  with  a  sense  of  doom, 
The  dead  are  cowering  in  the  tomb, 
Seas  are  calling,  stars  are  falling 
And  appalling  is  the  gloom ! 
Fragmentary  flames  are  flung 
Through  the  air  the  trees  among ! 


27o  BLACK  BEETLES  IN  AMBER 

Lo !  each  hill  inclines  its  head  — 
Karth  is  bending  'neath  his  thread  ! 
(On  the  contrary,  enter  Villiam  on  a  chip,  navigating  an 
odor  of  -mignonette.  Saralthia  springs  fonuard  to  put  him  in 
her  pocket,  but  he  is  instantly  retracted  by  an  invisible  string. 
She  falls  headlong,  breaking  her  heart.  Rc'entcr  Villiam, 
Needleson,  Smyler.  All  gather  about  Saralthia,  who  loudly 
laments  tier  accident.  The  Spirit  of  Tar-and  Fcatliers,  rising 
like  a  black  smoke  in  their  midst,  executes  a  monstrous  wink  oj 
graphic  and  vivid  significance,  then  contemplates  them  with  an 
obviously  baptismal  intention.  The  cross  on  Lone  Mountain 
takes  fire,  splendoring  the  Peninsula.  Tableau.  Curtain.) 


ON  STONE 


As  in  a  dream,  strange  epitaphs  f  see, 
Inscribed  on  yet  unquarried  stone, 
Where  wither  flowers  yetunstroiun — - 

The  Campo  Santo  of  the  time  to  be. 


A  WREATH   OF   IMMORTELLES 


LORING   PICKERING 
(After  Pope) 

Here  rests  a  writer,  great  but  not  immense , 

Born  destitute  of  feeling  and  of  sense. 

No  power  he  but  o'er  his  brain  desired — 

How  not  to  suffer  it  to  be  inspired. 

Ideas  unto  him  were  all  unknown, 

Proud  of  the  words  which,  only,  were  his  own. 

So  unreflecting,  so  confused  his  mind, 

Torpid  in  error,  indolently  blind, 

A  fever  Heaven,  to  quicken  him,  applied, 

But,  rather  than  revive,  the  sluggard  died. 


A    WATER-PIRATE 

Pause,  stranger — whence  you  lightly  tread 
Bill  Carr's  immoral  part  has  fled. 
For  him  no  heart  of  woman  burned, 
But  all  the  rivers'  heads  he  turned. 
Alas  !  he  now  lifts  up  his  eyes 
In  torment  and  for  water  cries, 
Entreating  that  he  may  procure 
One  drop  to  cool  his  parched  McClure  ! 


BLACK  BEETLES  IN  AMBER  274 

C.    P.    BERRY 

Here's  crowbait !— ravens,  too,  and  daws 
Flock  hither  to  advance  their  caws, 
And,  with  a  sudden  courage  armed, 
Devour  the  foe  who  once  alarmed — 
In  life  and  death  a  fair  deceit : 
Nor  strong  to  harm  nor  good  to  eat. 
King  bogey  of  the  scarecrow  host, 
When  known  the  least  affrighting  most, 
Though  light  his  hand  (his  mind  was  dark) 
He  left  on  earth  a  straw  Berry  mark. 


THE   REV.   JOSEPH    HEMPHILL 

He  preached  that  sickness  he  could  floor 

By  pra}rer  and  by  commanding  ; 
When  sick  himself  he  sent  for  four 

Physicians  in  good  standing. 
He  wras  struck  dead  despite  their  care, 

For,  fearing  their  dissension, 
He  secretly  put  up  a  prayer, 

Thus  drawing  God's  attention. 


CYNIC  perforce  from  studying  mankind 

In  the  false  volume  of  his  single  mind, 

He  damned  his  fellows  for  his  own  un worth, 

And,  bad  himself,  thought  nothing  good  on  earth, 

Yet,  still  so  judging  and  so  erring  still, 

Observing  well,  but  understanding  ill, 

His  learning  all  was  got  by  dint  of  sight, 

And  what  he  learned  by  day  he  lost  by  night. 

When  hired  to  flatter  he  would  never  cease 


275  BLACK  BEETLES  IN  AMBER 

Till  those  who'd  paid  for  praises  paid  for  peace. 

Not  wholly  miser  and  but  half  a  knave, 

He  yearned  to  squander  but  he  lived  to  save, 

And  did  not,  for  he  could  not,  cheat  the  grave. 

Hie  jacet  Pixley,  scribe  and  muleteer  : 

Step  lightly,  stranger,  anywhere  but  here. 


,  of  talents  rich  and  rare, 
Lies  at  this  spot  at  finish  of  his  race. 
Alike  to  him  if  it  is  here  or  there  : 

The  one  spot  that  he  cared  for  was  the  ace. 


HERE  lies  Joseph  Redding,  who  gave  us  the  catfish. 
He  dined  upon  every  fish  except  that  fish. 
'Twas  touching  to  hear  him  expounding  his  fad 
With  a  heart  full  of  zeal  and  a  mouth  full  of  shad. 
The  catfish  miaowed  with  unspeakable  woe 
When  Death,  the  lone  fisherman,  landed  their  Jo. 


JUDGE  SAWYER,  whom  in  vain  the  people  tried 
To  push  from  power,  here  is  laid  aside. 
Death  only  from  the  bench  could  ever  start 
The  sluggish  load  of  his  immortal  part. 

JOHN  IRISH  went,  one  luckless  day, 
To  loaf  and  fish  at  San  Jose. 
He  got  no  loaf,  he  got  no  fish  : 
They  brained  him  with  an  empty  dish  ! 
They  laid  him  in  this  place  asleep — 
O  come,  ye  crocodiles,  and  weep. 


BLACK  BEETLES  J.\  AMBER  276 

IN  Sacramento  City  here 

This  wooden  monument  we  rear 

In  memory  of  Dr.  May, 

Whose  smile  even  Death  could  not  allay. 

He's  buried,  Heaven  alone  knows  where, 

And  only  the  hyenas  care  ; 

This  May-pole  merely  marks  the  spot 

Where,  ere  the  wretch  began  to  rot, 

Fame's  trumpet,  with  its  brazen  bray, 

Bawled:   "Who  (and  why)  was  Dr.  May?" 


DENNIS  SPENCER'S  mortal  coil 
Here  is  laid  away  to  spoil — 
Great  riparian,  who  said 
Not  a  stream  should  leave  its  bed. 
Now  his  soul  would  like  a  river 
Turned  upon  its  parching  liver. 


FOR  those  this  mausoleum  is  erected 
Who  Stanford  to  the  Upper  House  elected. 
Their  luck  is  less  or  their  promotion  slower. 
For,  dead,  they  were  elected  to  the  Lower. 


BENEATH  this  stone  lies  Reuben  Lloyd, 
Of  breath  deprived,  of  sense  devoid. 
The  Templars'  Captain-General,  he 
So  formidable  seemed  to  be, 
That  had  he  not  been  on  his  back 
Death  ne'er  had  ventured  to  attack. 


277  BLACK  BEETLES  IN  AMBER 

HERE  lies  Barnes  in  all  his  glory— 
Master  he  of  oratOry. 
When  he  died  the  people  weeping, 
(For  they  thought  him  only  sleeping) 
Cried  :      ' '  Although  he  now  is  quiet 
And  his  tongue  is  not  a  riot, 
Soon,  the  spell  that  binds  him  breaking, 
He  a  motion  will  be  making. 
Then,  alas,  he'll  rise  and  speak 
In  support  of  it  a  week. 


RASH  mortal !  stay  thy  feet  and  look  around- 
This  vacant  tomb  as  yet  is  holy  ground  ; 
But  soon,  alas  !  Jim  Fair  will  occupy 
These  premises — then,  holiness,  good-bye  [ 


HERE  Salomon's  body  reposes; 
Bring  roses,  ye  rebels,  bring  roses. 
Set  all  of  j-our  drumsticks  a-rolling, 
Discretion  and  Valor  extrolling : 
Discretion — he  alwTa}rs  retreated  — 
And  Valor  —  the  dead  he  defeated. 
Brings  roses,  ye  loyal,  bring  roses  : 
As  patriot  here  he  re-poses. 


WHEN  Waterman  ended  his  bright  career 
He  left  his  wet  name  to  history  here. 
To  carry  it  writh  him  he  did  not  care : 
'Twould  tantalize  spirits  of  statesmen  There. 


BLACK  BEETLES  IN  AMBER  278 

HERE  lie  the  remains  of  Fred  Emerson  Brooks, 
A  poet,  as  every  one  knew  by  his  looks 
Who  hadn't  unluckily  met  with  his  books. 

On  civic  occasions  he  sprang  to  the  fore 

With  poems  consisting  of  stanzas  three  score. 

The  men  whom  they  deafened  enjoyed  them  the  more. 

Of  reason  his  fantasy  knew  not  the  check  •. 

All  forms  of  inharmony  came  at  his  beck. 

The  weight  of  his  ignorance  fractured  his  neck. 

In  this  peaceful  spot,  so  the  grave-diggers  say, 
With  pen,  ink  and  paper  they  laid  him  away  — 
The  Poet-elect  of  the  Judgment  Day. 


GEORGE  PERRY  here  lies  stiff  and  stark, 
\Vith  stone  at  foot  and  stone  at  head. 

His  heart  was  dark,  his  mind  was  dark  — 
Ignorant  ass  !  "  the  people  said. 

Not  ignorant  but  skilled,  alas, 
In  all  the  secrets  of  his  trade  : 

He  knew  more  ways  to  be  an  ass 
Than  any  ass  that  ever  brayed. 


HERE  lies  the  last  of  Deacon  Fitch, 
Whose  business  was  to  melt  the  pitch. 
Convenient  to  this  sacred  spot 
Lies  Sammy,  who  applied  it,  hot. 
'Tis  hard — so  much  alike  they  smell— 


279  BLACK  BEETLES  IN  AMBER 

One's  grave  from  t 'other's   grave  to  tell, 
But  when  his  tomb  the  Deacon's  burst 
(Of  two  he'll  always  be  the  first) 
He'll  see  by  studying  the  stones 
That  he's  obtained  his  proper  bones, 
Then,  seeking  Sammy's  vault,  unlock  it, 
And  put  that  person  in  his  pocket. 


BENEATH  this  stone  O'Donnell's  tongue's  at  rest- 
Our  noses  by  his  spirit  still  addressed. 
Living  or  dead, he's  equally  Satanic — 
His  noise  a  terror  and  his  smell  a  panic. 


WHEN  Gabriel  blows  a  dreadful  blast 
And  swears  that  Time's  forever  past, 
Days,  weeks,  months,  years  all  one  at  last, 
Then  Asa  Fiske,  laid  here,  distressed, 
Will  beat  (and  skin  his  hand)  his  breast : 
There'll  be  no  rate  of  interest ! 


STEP  lightly,  stranger  :   here  Jerome  B.  Cox 
Is  for  the  second  time  in  a  bad  box. 
He  killed  a  man — the  labor  party  rose 
And  showed  him  by  its  love  how  killing  goes 


WHEN  Vrooman  here  lay  down  to  sleep, 
The  other  dead  awoke  to  weep. 
"  Since  he  no  longer  lives,  "  they  said 
''  Small  honor  comes  of  being  dead." 


280  BLACK  BEETLES  IN  A1FDER 

HERE  Porter  Ashe  is  laid  to  rest 
Green  grows  the  grass  upon  his  breast, 
This  patron  of  the  turf,  I  vow, 
Ne'er  served  it  half  so  well  as  now. 


LIKE  a  cold  fish  escaping  from  its  tank, 
Hence  fled  the  soul  of  Joe  Russel,  crank. 
He  cried  :    ' '  Cold  water  !  ' '  roaring  like  a  beast. 
'Twas  thrown  upon  him  and  the  music  ceased. 


HERE  Bstee  rests.     He  shook  a  basket, 
When,  like  a  jewel  from  its  casket, 
Fell  Felton  out.     Said  Bstee,  shouting 
With  mirth  ;    "I've  given  you  an  outing." 
Then  told  him  to  go  back.      He  wouldn't. 
Then  tried  to  put  him  back.      He  couldn't. 
So  Estee  died  (his  blood  congealing 
In  Felton' s  growing  shadow)  squealing. 

MOURN  here  for  one  Bruner,  called  Elwood. 
He  doesn't  —  he  never  did  —  smell  good 

To  noses  of  critics  and  scholars. 
If  now  he'd  an  office  to  sell  could 
He  sell  it  ?  O,  no — where  (in  Hell)  could 

He  find  a  cool  four  hundred  dollars  ? 


HERE  Stanford  lies,  who  thought  it  odd 
That  he  should  go  to  meet  his  God. 
He  looked,  until  his  eyes  grew  dim. 
For  God  to  hasten  to  meet  him. 


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